Lycanthropy
by RenaRoo
Summary: The murders are rampant. The city is hysterical. And the killer is concerned with impressing only four entities: the green protectors of the city.
1. Constant Changing

I have been talking this story over with my Beta and friend Effar for quite some time and have finally taken the chance to write it. This story will be graphic and unlike anything else I've written for the fanfiction gallery. Please don't read if you are squeamish, it is rated M for a reason.

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter One: Constant Changing

_Lycanthropy, a psychosis in which the patient has delusions of being a wild animal, has been recorded since antiquity.  
~The American Journal of Psychiatry_

It was not unlike any of the several other times he had placed a woman in this most precarious situation.

As he had so many times before, he held his knife to her throat, a smooth skinned throat that peeled at the gentlest touch of his blade, a throat that was tanned skin and seemingly so exotic when held against the blotchy whiteness of his own hand, and threatened to press.

"I don't understand," she whimpered, like so many others before her.

No one ever quite understood why he was doing what he was doing. To be honest he didn't really understand either. Perhaps this was why he continued to do so. It did not start with her and it most certainly would not end with her, of that he was absolutely sure.

"Please, what do you want from me?" she cried through charcoal eyes, exotic eyes. He liked them. They were so deep and thoughtful. Or had been. She did not seem so intuitive as he pressed against her skin, splitting it. "Please!"

This was when she did something he simply did not understand.

She grabbed her waist as if something maternal had provoked her. That was senseless. He had seen her body from heel to hair. There was nothing about this woman, this beautifully built woman, that testified to motherhood. Certainly not her breasts.

He realized then that she had the wrong message. She assumed what he wanted and, in truth, that was not what he wanted at all.

So what did he want from her? As he looked into her reflective eyes and saw a void of darkness shrouding his face, he wondered for himself.

What _did_ he want?

"I want," he began ever so slowly before easing forward, slowly pressing the blade through the skin. He watched as the warm red broth poured out from her, enveloping his hands and his vision. "I _want_ for you to see me," he said with a mournful sigh as she released a gagging cry he was certain no one would hear.

Her body flailed in what he took to be a laughable and feeble struggle for life before resting back. He watched her eyes as the dimly lit charcoal faded, faded, faded into nothing.

To her diminishing flame, he cocked his head to the side and sighed. "I wanted too much. You saw nothing in me and, from a beautiful woman like you, that _must_ be a rejection. I have never been good at rejection."

He glanced at the mess, so disgruntled with the fact that it looked no better, no cleaner, no smoother than the previous one. It was incredibly disappointing.

And while the act of intrusion and murder were satisfying in their own ways, he knew this was not what he wanted. There was something missing from him, something these wonderful, perfect women knew was missing.

He only wanted to see his face in their eyes. He only wished to see his identity revealed to him through their crystal ball eyes, their gypsy glances. He was failing to see as much each time and with each woman that he went through this very process with he could not help but think that perhaps the answer lied within him.

Why did he do what he did? He supposed it was instinct.

If that was so, though, then why were there not more of him than there were of these women? Why was his instinct so much further and estranged than the others'?

He was not sure, but he knew that if he could find such an answer he would be able to see his face within the women's eyes and then, perhaps just then, he would be able to see his identity.

He was not human so what was he?

While the echoes of her cry yet remained on the stilled breath of the corpse, he reached forward and tugged on her hair, pulling her limp head toward him and further releasing a heated red flow. He expertly turned the knife within his hand and began to near the red blade toward the first eyelid.

He would have continued the plunge had it not been for the unexpected shift of air in the rafters of the abandoned warehouse.

The plastic coverings which hung loosely like tired skin fluttered with the breeze of wind, a breeze which could have only come from opening one of the many windows. These windows had been closed for this very purpose.

Alarmed to the occurrence and more alarmed to the lack of someone, he slid his knife into his back pocket and silently slid his way out of the light. He recoiled to the amorphous darkness and disappeared within the contents of a cabinet.

He closed the door quietly, not completely, not hurriedly.

Then he watched.

At first there was one. Short, seemingly plump before trickling starlight revealed a rippling physique, body moving hesitantly. The creature was not human but it was human enough for the malice filled murderer to be confident. He could kill the creature.

Then another emerged and another. They were all filed up until the artist could count four marveling his wondrous and unique art. They shouldn't have peaked, it was not proper to see art before completion.

He would have corrected this mistake, added them to his gallery but he knew before he even began that he would not be able to. Whatever these creatures were they were built, they were quick. Even in the shock they were experiencing, the murderer could see that they were poised and ready.

Ready for him? Perhaps not. Not just anyone could have been prepared for him.

But they were ready enough for _something_ that the murderer knew they would overwhelm him. He could have perhaps taken one by surprise but not two. Certainly never four.

Still, what were they four _of? _

A certain amount of comfort overcame him as he watched their bodies separate from the shadows, brightly shining in the darkness like green beacons. They entered the light, near the bloodied prize, and the murderer felt giddy as he looked at their forms.

Green skin, beaked faces, thick armored shells.

Turtles?

He shook excitedly, they were not human, of that much he was sure. Turtles had shells and were green. It was logical. Wasn't it? Was it truly all that logical to assume that the creatures he saw were more turtle, more animal than man?

He thought so.

One stood above the others, his face fully revealed by a crevice of light. The image horrified the murderer, striking a feeling in him that no one before had helped him to feel.

The creature's dark eyes, round face, confident stature was disgusted with the artist's vibrant red display. He rejected it, disgruntled with the situation and a pain struck the murderer's heart. He had never wished to appease someone so much before.

"This is bad," the deep voice of the prominent creature announced before looking to the others. "We'll call the police. Mike, head out first. Don, with him. Raph, stay and take a look around with me."

Immediately, the others followed suit, two leaving and one remaining with the undisputed leader.

The murderer stilled himself and watched as the two creatures carried themselves through the room. Scouring, scouring, scouring for him. A sign of him.

He watched them. No, not them. The distant observer watched _him._

He watched as the muscles of the turtle-and-man moved in a conjoined effort, in a controlled manner. He was quiet, reflective, and confident. Oh, so confident. It radiated from his body, from that _face!_ It was so perfectly inhuman but _just right_ for the creature.

The turtle, which must have been what the creature was, made a feeling of giddy infatuation return to the murdered that he had missed for so long as he sliced and diced his every dark skinned angel.

"I don't see him, Leo," the other spoke up suddenly, drawing the observer's glances to him. He had forgotten about this one! It was a most fortunate thing that he was not discovered seeing as the other turtle was within an arm's length from the cabinet.

The other straightened. _Leo,_ his name was _Leo!_ He stared at the other creature and then glanced to the corpse. He shook his head. "I was sure he, whoever he was, was here."

The murderer's heart skipped. Leo felt his presence?

"We'll leave then, Mike and Don have surely called the police already," Leonardo stated before waving for the other to follow him out. "I'll call some of our friends to see if we can help any more than that but I doubt it."

They left but the man-but-not-man knew what he truly meant. This would not be the last time their paths crossed, he would make sure of it.

He watched Leo leave him and slowly emerged from the shallow depths of the cabinet. He fiddled with his knife and looked at his reflection. Was that a green hue? A pointed beak? Was this why he was not so much like the humans he had already known?

Yes, he would like to see more of the turtle and his underlings.

They could very well be the last change in the murderer's metamorphosis…

…

A/N: Warned you…

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	2. Tools of the Trade

Important information from this point on would be that Radical is an actual canon character from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle comics. She is a super heroine with the ability to control water. She was given more back story and interest when it was explained that she is in fact a Native American whose occupation as a "citizen" is being a historian with the Museum of Natural History. Later in the comics she develops a deep romance with Leonardo. The bonds they share (as showed in a "future" tense comic) become spiritual as time progresses. For the sake of this story, the romance has only begun, it's not far into the future as the turtles aren't walking the streets with aliens. This is after Splinter's death, though, as the brothers have split apart to grow into their own "selves."

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy **  
Chapter Two: Tools of the Trade

The importance of that day was one that Leonardo could not overlook. He had to assure himself that everything was perfectly ready for his brothers. It was going to be the first time since their father's passing that the four of them had resided under the same roof and it would be soon.

He had been the only one to remain in the city for the entirety of the two year period. From time to time one or, on a rare occasion, two of his brothers had returned for a week or simple visit but never all of them, never like they used to be.

That day, or later that night rather, would be their actual return and the first time that the long term reunion. He felt like the pieces had finally fallen back in place.

His largest concern, though, did not reside with the return of his brothers or the cleanliness of their old home, which Leonardo had already made sure was spotless. He was most concerned with whether or not his brothers would accept the changes he had made.

Leonardo had changed in two years because he no longer considered himself a solitary person. He was much more appreciative of his brothers' presence and, furthermore, was appreciative of the new presence which he planned to introduce to them that night.

It was that special person that he was looking for that night as he sprinted over the city roofs and checked every alleyway.

Concern was growing as the hour ticked on and Leonardo became more and more thoroughly concerned that there was danger. He was supposed to have met her nearly an hour before. She had never showed up.

Looking in the alley, he grunted at her absence and continued on.

Perhaps she did not understand that if she was not introduced to his brothers immediately there was a good chance that she would not be accepted. He groaned inwardly as he realized that the small encounter they had had with Michelangelo could have been responsible for this outlook. He had noted that there was something special between Leonardo and his famous counterpart but seemed to endorse it.

Leonardo was _not_ concerned with Mike's acceptance of her, though. He was not even concerned with Don's acceptance.

It was Raphael.

More so than even Leonardo, the fiery spirited brother was untrusting of the outside world and had never been one to accept people or relationships his brothers had. It was not for the reasons which Leo refused to approve, being that it could have been a danger, rather Raph was certain that his brothers could only be hurt in an outcome with these relationships.

"He doesn't know _Radical,_ though," Leo mused.

His crossing over rooftop after rooftop continued until he reached the edge of a line of buildings. While the alleys had their share of punks and bad excuses, none contained the love he was questing for. He glanced about, failing to see the distinct form of the tall, pleasant Native American.

It was not the lack of her form in the alleys that was bothering him either, though. He had thought it was but he was surprisingly wrong as another, stranger feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach.

There was a cold chill and Leonardo sensed something was observing him, scrutinizing his every move. It was something commonplace. The Foot always had their operatives keeping tabs on him and his brothers but lately it had been rather ridiculous.

He turned and stared into nothing, wondering what could possible give him this unsettling feeling of being followed.

Narrowing his eyes, Leonardo reached back, taking hold of his ninjaken's hilt and tilting his head to the side. He was not about to leave that feeling in the back of his mind without explanation. The mysterious presence was not going to confuse him further.

Edging slowly toward the building, Leonardo watched as the scene unfolded.

She was a tall woman, black trench coat, large and somewhat ridiculous hat that was red, covered in flowers, masked with a veil. Black hair swept over her shoulders, unfolding in healthy, shining black like a haze of darkness.

Dark skin like a tanned hide revealed itself under sleeve, through veil, under fishnet stocking.

She was attempting to attract attention. Judging by the alley, the attention was most certainly of the wrong kind, too. The twirl of her head and the following flow of vibrant, perfumed hair only assured Leonardo all the more that this was a set up.

While she tried much too hard, though, it captured the attention of two less than intelligent looking behemoths.

He watched. The concept of being followed, watched, observed disappeared from the forefront of his mind and lodged itself in a distant corner. Leo lowered onto his haunches, still gripping the handles of his swords as he watched intently.

"You want somethin', doll?" one snidely questioned as he neared.

"You want someone to take care of you?"

Standing up, Leonardo knew he could not idly sit by any longer. Instead, his fists clenched over the frigid hilts of his swords and he began his decent into the shadowed alleyway where a familiar voice cooed from underneath the audacious hat.

"I believe I can take care of myself just fine," she responded only moments before a blur of green interrupted their visions and the first of the hulking men found themselves unconscious, upside down, and bloodied in a nearby trash can.

The woman folded her arms and stared stoically at Leonardo as he rose up and positioned himself in offense again, squaring off with the other man. "Even if others believe otherwise," she stated in a strangely flat tone, one Leonardo knew for sure belonged to the good doctor.

"I'm sure that's why you endanger yourself like this," Leonardo scoffed before lunging at the angry, notably stupid thug. He feigned to the left, allowing the man to rush skull first into the wall. "Makes perfect sense, Radical."

They both stared forward, watching as the man faltered in his step before shaking off the supposed pain. He snarled and glared forward at them, causing the two to grunt knowingly. Leonardo should have known that brain injury would not affect this one.

"I am participating in a particular type of research, Leonardo," Radical stated as the rhinoceros of a man barreled toward the turtle, catching Leo in a moment's delay and ramming him into the nearest wall for his fault. "Perhaps you have heard of it before, it is known as remaining undercover."

"What do you know," Leo grunted as he was given enough room to slide to his feet. He glanced about, realizing that his swords had been dropped on impact. The man lunged, Leonardo leaped, and the turtle's foot met the back of the thug's neck. "I had always thought that you would reject any help at the request of the Justice Force. I thought you said you were above that kind of teamwork, Radical."

She shook her head, watching as the turtle stooped low, collecting one of his twin weapons. "It is not that simple this time, my love," she sighed. "I am certain that you have heard on the news about the irregular amount of murders in a specific pattern."

"The serial killings," Leonardo responded as he sheathed his weapon. "Yes, I have."

"Then you also know of the nature of the women who are targeted," Radical continued as she looked into Leonardo's eyes. "They are all dark skinned, not the same ethnicity, but dark skinned and tall. Straight black hair."

The turtle's eyes narrowed. "So you went out dressed as a hooker because…?"

Shaking her head, Radical already showed that she was not having their bickering that night. Her own arms folded and she frowned at Leonardo from beneath the ridiculous veil. "I was undercover. I look like the girls being killed and the police and the Justice Force believe that I can lure the killer from hiding and capture him at the same time."

"You know," Leo said lowly, "if I looked like the group of girls being killed by a serial killer I think I would do something that would detract attention from me. Cut my hair, dye it, not walk alone at night."

"But you like all those things about me," Radical retorted.

"I also like you being alive if you haven't noticed," Leonardo stated lowly.

A small smile etched itself upon her lips and Radical nodded respectively to the turtle. She understood his concerns as much as she had to come to disagree with them. She stepped forward and gently brushed his cheek. "You mustn't worry so much, Leonardo. I am much stronger than I appear."

"I know," he stated with a sigh before grabbing her hand and pulling it down from his cheek. "You're supposed to be getting ready anyway. My brothers have probably already started to show up."

"Then you are late," Radical responded as she withdrew her hand. "Are you still concerned that they will not—"

They hesitated, the sounds of sirens hushing their conversation. Together in one movement they glanced to the road outside of the alley. The faded blue and red lights touched the corners of the walls and it was too late.

"So you're working with the police on this one, too?" he asked.

"I told you I was cautious."

"Too late, grab my sword."

Turning, Radical began to respond to Leonardo's orders only to find that he had left the alley already, much like a shadow disappearing into the darkness, it was as though he was never there. She sighed with a curious smile at the event.

"Always cleaning up your mess," she whispered as the cars screeched to a halt.

The police came to her immediately with nearly a dozen questions to ask, all of which she had previously conceived answers to. Her thoughts were not with the boys in blue but with her previous statement.

With his brothers back would Leonardo need her to clean up after him anymore?

She could only hope.

* * *

There was no denying the beauty that vibrantly clung to her sun kissed skin, dark blotted hair, round soulful eyes. She was a form of her own, a gypsy Venus rising from the cold splashes of drain pooled water.

His hands wrung; sweat slipped into the crevices of his fingers. He was so consumed by her aura.

Watching her, though, he knew he was not ready. He was not deserving. He had to keep training, training made perfect. The change was not complete yet. Once it was he would be ready, oh, how he would be ready.

The time he focused on observations was not at loss, though. He had learned so much, so much to prepare him for when his change would come. He was ready for it, even if he did not know when it would be or what it would be.

Lowly, cast beneath the layers of shadows which had secreted him all that night, first from his true love and then from the police gathered around the exotic beauty, he lowered himself. His sweat crawled over his skin.

Reaching forward, he touched the cold hilt and slid the weapon toward himself.

It was to the perfect tool for his unique trade.

…

A/N: You have nothing to fear but fear itself. And crazy fanfic authors.

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	3. Promises

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy  
**Chapter Three: Promises

Memories swelled within his mind, bubbling and surfacing from what had once appeared to be an abysmal plane. He had forgotten them purposefully and by doing so he forgot the pain of not having them around. It had been such a lonesome existence without his kin.

That night had been wonderful. They laughed and ate and embraced like the lost brothers that they were. So many times he had longed for that reunion. He would sit in the shadows of the park, glaring at the lonesomeness and demanding to know why it was there when, before, his brothers had always been there.

If he had been less neurotic he might not have noticed the absence of his guest.

Watching his brothers, weary from traveling, Leonardo could not help but reminisce on a similar scene from their earlier years. The brothers were always by his side and he was by theirs. He watched over their sleeping forms and hoped to capture that togetherness and peace again.

He wished he could store the moment away for yet another inevitable time of solitude.

"No, I'll never be alone again," he muttered to himself as he left the hall and its lulling snores. He neared the sewer exit where he could eventually wander onto the surface.

There was a consistent noon appointment he had to keep and that day in particular he needed to make sure he was there. His lunch date would have some explaining to do, particularly after guaranteeing him last night that she would be there.

Worst yet, he had to get rid of this worrying. It was squirming within his head, shriveling up as time progressed.

He ran his thumb over the brim of his hat and lowered his head, preparing himself for avoiding onlookers, and headed toward the door only to hear a yawn. He sighed as he stopped, nostalgia settling in as he recalled the many times this happened before.

"You heading out?"

Leonardo turned and smirked at his brother. Michelangelo, no matter how much older they were, was not different from the lovable goofball he always knew. He walked with a sway and fluidly moved his arms as he tapped his beak, suppressing another onset of yawns.

"It's rather rude to leave your guests," Mike added.

"None of you are guests," Leo reminded him somberly, turning more directly toward Michelangelo. His face had dropped at the very notion. "This is our home. I've just been house sitting for an extended period. You're all always welcome to come and stay whenever you want. It's rather strange to have to consider this a reunion when it's more like a homecoming."

The other laughed and shook his head, immediately detecting Leo's jab. "I like staying at April's Leo."

"You don't have to pay rent at home."

Catching the jab, Michelangelo threw back his head and released a laugh, shaking his head at the guilt trip. "I don't technically have to pay rent at April's apartment either, Leo. I do it because it makes me feel like the space is really mine."

Leonardo studied him for a moment, obviously displeased with the announcement but sighed and shook off the biting words on his lips. He knew his brothers, even the childish Michelangelo, were grown and ready to leave the nest.

Hell, they already had.

He just wished that he had been ready, too.

"Are you going to yell at her when you find her?"

Blinking, caught off guard by the question, Leonardo looked up to his brother and quirked an eye ridge. The question was preposterous; the elder turtle was offended to have even been asked as much. "Who?" he asked.

"Oh, don't play stupid, Leo," Mike grinned with a wiggle of his eye ridges. "We're talking about a little Bow-chick-a-bow-wow you've had going on. We went to the movies together a few months ago?"

"I would never yell at Radical," Leo stated sternly, glaring at his brother for the very thought. "Our relationship is completely formed on understanding and respect for each other."

"Then why didn't she show up last night?" Mike asked. "Don and I were all up in arms waiting on her to burst through the doors with her Super-Human might, dude! It was great to see everyone again but we were hoping for a 'surprise' toward the end—"

"How does Don know?" Leo demanded, his eyes narrowing. "He's been adventuring around Toronto these past few months."

"Well, it's big news, you hooking up," Mike expressed with a shrug. "I couldn't keep it to myself and I wasn't about to tell Raph." He smirked some at Leonardo's continued discontent and waved him off. "Don't worry, Don won't bother you about it. Heck, I won't bother you about it! Well, too much."

"I don't feel any better," Leo muttered before turning and waltzing out. "If Don or Raph wake up, tell them I went to Beaker to pick up some pizzas and will be back soon."

"Oh, not suspicious at all, Leo," Mike snorted before waving his brother away. "Just get outta here, love bird! And next time you come in have something worth looking at on your arm!"

* * *

He ogled at her curves, skin, eyes. The round orbs were dark, overwhelming, consuming. He could not escape that damning gaze nor did he want to. He drew toward her, watching her as this beautiful woman beckoned, called him.

There was no denying that he was summoned by the woman.

"May I take your coat, ma'am?"

"Do you work at the museum?" she asked, teased, laughed. She was a devilish deceiver; he could see that from the beginning. He would humor her taunts for the moment, though. He had all the time in the world for her.

"I'm a bit of an artist, actually," he admitted with a thumbing of his thumbs. The nervousness was settling in and he could not resist the feeling of inadequacy. "I'd love to show you some of my works sometime. I think you're the type for my collection."

"Oh, how nice of you," she laughed. "I'm glad you know your way around here, though."

"Do you need to know where something is?"

His voice was so much huskier than usual as he spoke to her. The attempts he made to be throatier were all but obvious. He knew that she could see he was trying to impress her. The woman felt flattered. He felt relieved.

The metamorphosis was not complete just yet, the voice was one of many accounts that proved as much.

"If you could show me where the bathroom is… I'd really appreciate it."

And that was his opening. He grinned at her.

"Of course I will."

He took her hand.

* * *

She signed off on another document, prepared to watch the assembly of the newest exhibit, and stood her ground. With her tall stature and emotionless manner, most workers took her to be a quiet, unusual, and intimidating task master.

It was an image she did not mind portraying.

The intimidation factor had not always been there. Before her rebirth, she had been rather rambunctious, free spirited, and childish. There were few times that she was taken seriously by her fellow workers as a result.

Since the rebirth from the pool of water that had created her alter ego, she had taken herself more seriously. The line or work she was in began to consume the little free time she had between her two lives. To teach the world about her suffering people she did all she could.

As a result, there were few times that she was not taken seriously anymore.

The archeologist of Native American life that she had been beforehand would have scoffed at such a hardnosed, intimidating, and otherwise lifeless form she had become. The woman she had once been would have also been jealous of the secret scandals that this led to her having.

"Dr. Shadowheart," a crisp but darkened voice called from the shadows behind her. "I believe that you work too much, too hard."

She smiled, knowing better than to give her caller the pleasure of turning toward him. Instead, she leaned back her head, acknowledging his presence behind her and crossed her arms. "While you may feel negatively toward this characteristic, Sir, I can assure you that I know someone who finds it rather attractive."

"Sounds like someone with a similar problem," he responded.

"He is," she stated, finally giving in to the want of seeing him. With the small turn she found a familiar trench coat, hat, shadow. He was never one to go out of his way in presentation. His entrances more than made up for it, though. "I thought they would make you give identification before letting you in the museum now."

"A ninja always has his ways," he stated smugly. "I'm happy to see you're okay after last night, Raven."

"I think I like it better when you call me by my other name," she responded gently as she rubbed her arms. There was a slight chill, most likely a prolonged breeze from a window. She refrained from revealing to Leonardo that his secret entry was discovered. "But I thank you for acknowledging my other life."

"I find both of your lives incredibly fascinating," he responded, fighting his own need to near her, remove himself from the shadows, better see her. "The changes you've made in both of them, too. It's always surprising."

Her gaze moved from him for a few moments. Beyond them was the scene of several workers, delicately stacking the parts of the exhibit, sorting, constructing. They were hard at work to please the prestigious Doctor Raven Shadowheart.

Many thought of the eccentric doctor as being capable of seeing through eyes no one else could. Some credited the gift to her intelligence. Others believed the answers rested in her respectable heritage.

There was only one other person standing in the room who truly understood how she saw things differently.

Understanding worked in both directions, however, and his pain was unavoidable.

"I am sorry that your reunion did not work as you had planned," she stated sincerely. After a moment, she looked to him, knowing the shadows could only hide so much of his disappointment. He had been planning the event for weeks and it was very important to him.

"It was a good reunion," Leonardo responded lowly. "I love my brothers and to see them again after being separated for so long… it's not like any other feeling I've ever had, Raven. It felt as though, just a little bit, I was coming home, too."

She sighed. "But it was not as you had planned, Leonardo. You are devastatingly disappointed. I am truly sorry."

"No, it didn't," he finally admitted. "I wish you had been there to celebrate, too. Without you there, half of me wasn't there to celebrate either." His head, turned, the fedora working against the doctor as it continued to hide his face. "I wanted my brothers to see how wonderful my life has been and I couldn't without you being there."

With a shake, Dr. Shadowheart disbanded all guilt her love had been attempting to shame her with. "I would have been interfering, what your brothers and you needed was to catch up. I would have been your fifth wheel."

"I know what my brothers have been doing," Leonardo pointed out as he looked at her. "I always know what my brothers are doing. It's not a two way street, though. They don't always know what I'm doing. To them I've probably been sitting in the Lair every day, imagining they were home."

"You do do that from time to time."

"With you."

Seeing the intensity in his gaze, she sighed and nodded. Leonardo was always right about these things. At least, that is what he thought and what the good doctor allowed him to think. She smiled at him, caving more and more.

"Very well. I suppose your suggestion for lunch was an underground picnic," she joked gently.

"If you're up for it," he sighed with relief. "Just a warning, though. I know you've met all of my brothers before we started dating and I know you've met Mike afterward, but some of my brothers aren't always as accepting of big changes. This goes double for surprises, triple if they figure I should have told them beforehand."

Raven wrinkled her nose. "Are we talking about Raphael?"

"In so many words," Leonardo sighed.

A confident smirk grew upon her lips and Radical shook her head. Leonardo's worrisome habits were adorably annoying. He over thought everything when it came to the most trivial of circumstances. "I think I can handle your brothers, Leonardo. I have super strength and can fly."

He nodded, still not convinced for whatever reason. He looked over her, remembering something as a scowling expression came to his face.

"What is it now?" she asked. "Would you rather me be dressed in the spandex?"

"No," he said lowly before glancing into her dark eyes. "Did you get my sword last night?"

* * *

"NO!"

He penetrated her for the last time. This time, it was with the cold blade of a ninja. He watched as her body stopped moving and he cleanly moved the blade through her abdomen. Her flesh separated, smooth as butter, with his sword.

Red leaked from her, painting her bare body. The even coating reminded him of a beautiful scarlet dress. He entertained the idea of a ball with her hanging on his arms.

Masking himself in the living paint, he leaned forward, on top of her as if her heart had still been beating. He kissed her eagerly spaced lips and glanced into her hollow eyes.

Reflected was a man transformed yet again into green skinned beast. He looked above his beak to see a mask of red.

Her gypsy eyes served him no further purpose, however. He still saw the faintest shadow covering his character. While he was a beast, there was no distinction of who the beast was. He had no illusion that she was the one to reveal such a secret to him, however.

This was merely practice. He was still furthering his metamorphosis. He was not done just yet.

There he left around her small decorations, reminders of how much she had helped him.

Covered in her distinct life paint, he walked away, confident despite the dozens of men and women around who were most likely calling the police. They only heard distant screams, they did not know that they were all for a good cause.

He was right, though.

She certainly had fit well into his collection.

…

A/N: Please Review


	4. Introductions

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy  
**Chapter Four: Introductions

His vision was blurred from a lack of waking ambition and the rather unexpected gleam of light. To adjust his eyes he blinked rapidly, welcoming darkness to clear his blinded sight. It was then that the images of an old brick wall faced him.

Narrowing his gaze, he was finally able to make light of the situation. Nothing was similar but it was not foreign either. He knew where he was but had not anticipated on waking up there.

It had been a long time since he faced his room's wall first thing in the morning and he had the glorious lighting to thank for the encounter. The thought crossed his mind that, just perhaps, he had waited much too long before returning home.

The thought was one that he was promising to keep to himself. If Leonardo had found out that Raph had missed home in even the slightest bit during his absence then the leader would leap all over the opportunity.

He wanted Raph to stay home for good and it was something that the free spirit could no longer do. His adventures elsewhere were calling him at that very moment.

Not to mention, there was still the inescapable feeling that he was not truly needed in the equation any longer. The team was no more. There was family, which he loved, but there was no need to be concerned about patrol shifts or crime syndicates.

That was why he had to leave and start fresh. It was something Leonardo could never truly understand.

"He put something in our drinks last night," Raph muttered to himself as he pulled himself to the side of the bed. He ignored the fact that spiking drinks was uncharacteristic for Leonardo or the more blatant fact that he had supplied his own alcohol.

No, if anything Leonardo had inserted some traditional herb or spice into everyone's drinks in order to prolong their lives or brainwash them into staying home with him.

"Poor bastard," he sighed at the thought.

Getting up, Raphael made his way toward the hall, the source of the new light, and felt his stomach lurch forward. He did not enough of the dinner last night and other than it he had not eaten since he caught the train toward home. It had been a hard ride but, depending on Leo's stash of cereal, it could have very well been worth the hassle.

There was also the instinctual need to pound whoever it was that had flooded his room with unneeded light. They may have been adults but there were some things that simply could never change, like pounding on Mike or Don for waking him up too early.

Entering the kitchen, Raph's stomach released another urging movement and the revenge upon his family became shamefully unimportant in the face of certain starvation. He made a bee-line toward the cabinet.

"Cereal, cereal," he muttered to himself, his eyes darting over every label available. "Cereal, cereal, cereal—What the hell?" He growled, backing away from the unholy cabinet. The shelves were lined with canned vegetables, greens, dried spices, herbs, tea mixers, coffee, and a single box of thin mints. No cereal. "What has Leo been _eating!?" _

With no options left, Raphael grabbed the only edible item in the cabinet and quickly began consuming the thin mints. They were stale.

"He _has_ to be holding out on us," he growled before shaking his head. "Back home I have things ten times better than these."

There was little he could do about it at that moment, though. His only option was to head to where his brothers were gathered and hassle Leonardo about the situation. Nothing could be closer to the good old times than Raph senselessly bothering his brother about his lack of hospitality.

Taking the box of hard thin mints with him, Raph neared the living room where familiar chatter hung in the air. The memories of being home flooded back and he shook his head at what he had always considered Don and Mike's "girl talk."

"So he left us with no breakfast cooked?" Don laughed. "I guess Leo's changed somewhat after all. Or maybe it's just because he had no food to share. Those cabinets are about as bare as they come."

Passing the corner, Raph could see the knowing grin grow on Michelangelo's face. That was when he knew that there was something up and Mike knew about it.

"Let's just say that our boy Leo keeps his groceries elsewhere," Mike laughed. "There's nothing around here but the minimum stuff."

"Where does he keep it then?" Don asked. "You have to keep me updated, Mike. You're the one who's stayed closest to home for all this time. I haven't seen Leo since Thanksgiving and even then it was just for the hour he spent at April's with us."

"That's because he went to _her _house afterword, Don," Mike rolled his eyes. "Geeze, I thought we'd been through all of this."

"That's ridiculous, Mike," Don snorted. "You can't honestly tell me that Leo keeps all of his stuff at her house."

"Just most of it," Mike responded with a flick of his wrist, flinging off the news as if it was nothing compared to what else he had to say. "That's not the fun part, though."

"Oh, isn't it?" Don questioned, leaning back in the chair. "Is he bringing her here you think?"

"Let's just say that they have lunch together every day and I think Leo was rather peeved that she didn't show up here last night," Mike grinned before his eyes at last drifted toward the doorway where Raphael stood. He puffed out his bottom lip. "Aw, Raph, you're not supposed to eavesdrop."

"Sorry to interrupt your gossiping, ladies," Raph snorted as he came and sunk into Leo's favorite chair. "I was so starving that I was actually hoping that Don would have some left over space food or something else I'd regularly spit up before swallowing."

"It was dehydrated food, and I brought it back from the space center _once,_" Don responded immediately. "I would have thought you appreciated the fact that I brought it all the way back from Kennedy to you."

"You took space food to Chicago and didn't bring any to _me?" _Mike gasped. He shook his head. "For shame, Donatello. I thought we weren't supposed to have any favoritism between brothers."

"Speaking of favoritism," Raph interjected, his eyes shifting between the two of them. "What's all this talk about Leo and some chick? He finally found the surrogate mommy of his dreams or something? I thought we all agreed that it was April."

"April's an awesome mom, by the way," Mike grinned. "Not to mention landlord! She gives me chocolate cake as a reward for every time I can make payment on my rent. How many people can say that?"

"How many landlords can say that their tenant is a five foot turtle who writes comic book scripts?" Don retorted.

"Hey, get back to my question!" Raph snapped. "Who the hell are you guys talking about?"

Mike smirked before forcing the smile to drop. It was taking everything in him to suppress the excitement over the news. He was also failing miserably at the attempt at being solemn, much like he failed at keeping Leo's secret.

"We're talking about Leo's gal pal," Mike stated. "The secret lover, the woman of his dreams, his better half—"

Raphael narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you saying, Mike?"

"Leo's _girlfriend," _he at last stated blatantly, a smile rippling past his defenses at long last. "They've been together for, like, ever now and I think Leo's finally going to give us proper introductions. Not that we need them—"

"Bullshit."

The two turned curiously toward the brother. They looked at him surprised, as if the reaction had not been something they could expect. Raphael returned the stares with his own. He did not appear externally upset, at least not yet.

"What?" Don questioned, his words stuttering out of his mouth.

"I said that it's bullshit," Raph retorted. He felt himself hungrily stuff yet another thin mint into his mouth and crunch down on the tiny snack. The bitter, disgusting taste hung in his mouth for a moment but at least his stomach stopped its struggling.

"Oh, we got that," Michelangelo responded before leaning back into the chair, regaining his composure. "We just don't know what part was the supposed Cow Hockey."

"That Leo has a girlfriend," Raph responded. He grinned knowingly. "That's not true, you're yankin' mine and Don's chains."

"Am not," Mike said sourly. "I'm always truthful. Well, mostly. But I'm one hundred percent right on this one. You'll die when you know who it is, too!"

"No, I know who it is," Raph retorted, his anger rising. "It's no one. This wouldn't have gotten past me. Leo woulda told me if he had a girl. He called and wrote me all the time, keeping tabs like usual. I would have known."

"Would have known what?"

The three glanced up, finding that the brother in question had already arrived. Leonardo stared at them for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he detected the tone of the previous conversation. It was never a good sign when the brothers were quieted by his entrance.

Mike grinned as he finally managed to look over his brother's shoulder. "Haven't you got any introductions to make, Big Bro?" he asked wryly before leaping to his feet and making his way toward the entering woman.

Donatello's eyes widened. "Okay, so Mike had me ready to meet a girl, Leo, but he didn't warn me it was _her!"_

"Oh, and here I thought you all had gossiped about everything by now," Leonardo snorted lightly, watching the mentioned brother bring Radical into a tight, welcoming embrace. "Any way, Mike was right. Everyone, I know you remember Dr Raven Shadowheart, or, well, you might just remember her by Radical."

"Of course!" Don managed to respond as he rose to his feet as well and made his way toward her.

"It is nice to see you again, too, Michelangelo," Radical laughed as the brother squeezed her waist one last time. She shook her head as he finally released her and ran her fingers through her long hair, sweeping it back over her brow. "I was not aware that our encounter had left such impact on you."

"Dude, you got Leo off my back!" Mike exclaimed with a chuckle. "How can I _not _love you for that?"

Leonardo smiled, pleased with the outcome. He studied Don's reaction carefully, watching as the brother took one of Radical's hands in both of his and shook with all his might. He greeted her casually as _sister._

The former leader suddenly felt a great relief overcome him. His family understood the importance Radical now stood in his life.

As he looked through the corner of his eyes, however, and saw his third brother unmoving in the chair, Leo realized he had assumed too much too soon. Raphael was stunned with his surprise and incapable of responding externally.

Internally, though, Leonardo could sense a torrent of emotion.

The brother was pleased to decipher that it was not at all directed toward Radical but could only feel hurt as sensed it was to him.

"Hello, Raphael," Radical stated as she looked in his direction. "We have not seen each other since you all were teenagers. Your brother tells me you moved to Chicago for a while."

At last turning completely toward him, Leonardo could see that Raphael's gaze was not leaving the eldest turtle. Rather, he seemed completely focused upon Leo's face. He hardly acknowledged Radical.

"Yeah," Raph said lowly. "I've told Leo here _everything_ I've been doing."

Scowling in reply, Leonardo placed his hands on his hips. "Subtle, Raph. Very subtle."

Donatello and Michelangelo glanced to one another, immediately recognizing the tell tale signs of a future implosion between the brothers. It had been years, most likely before their teen years had ended, since one had happened. Fortunately, though, Don and Mike had been practiced enough to know how to accurately respond.

"Do you have a timed lunch, Radical?" Don asked. "I mean, Raven? Dr Shadowheart? Um..."

"My lunch hour is expandable as necessary," she responded politely. "And I prefer Radical."

"Oh, well we better hurry and get started then!" Mike exclaimed after only half listening to the reply she gave. He gently weaseled his arm around her's and then the other around Leo's, yanking the two of them close. "I want to hear the full scoop about how you guys met in the kitchen, alright?"

"You have been told," Leo hissed.

"Yeah, but Don and Raph want to be caught up! Come on!" Mike urged, dragging them along.

Don watched them disappear into the hall and turn the corner. He sighed before looking to Raphael. He frowned as he watched his brother reach for the remote and switch from Leo's armchair to the couch.

"You're not proving anything by acting like that," Don stated lowly. "I'm sure he had a reason for not telling us."

"Leo always told me this shit before," Raph snapped as he turned on the television. "Obviously he doesn't want me to be a part of this happy little 'New Family' of his. He's got Mike and now this chick so he's set--"

"Shut up," Don grunted with a roll of his eyes. "You know as well as I do that Leo has wanted nothing since the day we all decided to leave for us to stay home. And I bet you in every letter he wrote to you he asked when you were coming home. I know it's in mine."

"Yeah, and guess what I just realized," Raph hissed, glaring at him. "Every damn letter I've sent I've had to tell him every stinkin' adventure I've been on. I've even told him when I found a good place to get pizza. But Leo has never once told me what he's done."

"I know," Don sighed. "I was always worried that he _wasn't_ doing anything."

Swallowing, Raph shook his head, changed the channel. "Yeah. I was, too."

"I'm glad now, though," Don continued. "I know he wasn't moping around the Lair all day, training and writing letters to us." He sniffed the air and listened to Mike's excited calls from the kitchen. "And I know where you can get a good slice of pizza right now."

"I will," Raph stated lowly, turning to the news.

"Come on, Raph," Don growled.

"Wait, Don," Raph said, pointing to the screen. "What the hell is this?"

Don leaned forward over his brother's shoulder and stared at the screen. His eyes narrowed as he read the alerts on the bottom of the television. To make sure he was not mistaken in his reading, he looked over it yet again.

It was true though.

"There's a serial killer calling himself the _Kame?"_ Don questioned. "That's Japanese for turtle isn't it?"

Raphael narrowed his gaze. "Yeah. It is."

…

A/N: Please Review


	5. Red Handed

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy  
**Chapter Five: Red Handed

He faintly recalled in childhood how he had folded his clothes, the nice ones at least, over and under. The collar would be the hardest problem usually because he longed to have it perfectly erect like he got it from the store. Tried as he might it would always be flattened the next time he pulled them out of the drawer.

It took years of practice for him to perfect the art of folding.

Under the circumstances, however, he knew better than to take such care in folding his current clothes. They were far less nice than the few dress shirts he possessed as a child, not to mention he had a more ample supply for them.

Also the splatters of red were not worth the tiring task of removal. He could have done it with enough time but time was not something he had at the moment. He was still perfecting another art, one that, as a true artist, he had been aware of the _mess_ that came with it.

Over and under he folded, not perfectly but still folded, before laying the clothes gently within the bin. Over that he placed a bag of scraps. He had been waiting for such an occasion to rid his house of the scraps of maize and meat.

It lacked any bones, though. He needed those and he always kept what he would later need.

Shaking his body, he wrinkled the nice dress pants, the white button shirt, and knee high socks as though he had been wearing them the entire day. He was a new man with his coat folded over his arm and a chipper smile over his face.

It was as though nothing of interest had happened. He moved forward and toward the bus stop. It was nearly ten and he would have hated to walk home alone in the dark city with no one around. There were a lot of strange people in the world. He couldn't take his chances.

Besides, it was almost ten and he always considered himself a man of _opportunity. _

The bus stop was lit by a single streetlight and the sign towered above the woman standing by it.

He paused, staring at her black hair as it flowed over her shoulders and down her back.

With a confident smile, he came to her side and stood beside her. They exchanged glances and he tipped his head to her, watching her dark eyes intently as their lids closed and lifted off of them. She was a beautiful little gypsy.

Her nod to him was a simple one and she returned to her previous conversation, one with the small phone in her hands. She listened to a muffled voice over the phone, one that he could not hear nor did he wish to hear. He only looked at her.

And he listened.

"Yeah, Amelia, I'm heading home," she said. "I'm at the bus stop right now. They wanted me to stay for another shift but that wouldn't end until two in the morning and there's no way I'd start home that late. There's that murderer going around. I'm much safer going home right now."

He smiled to himself as he looked down to his coat. He lowered his hand into his pocket and felt the blade secreted within. It was empowering, reminding him of the mission that was at hand and how he was not tired just yet.

He could perform one more order of business for the night.

"Yes, I'll call you in the morning," she told Amelia and hung up the phone. This only left the man to question as he turned toward her, grabbing a hold of her attention for the first real time since he appeared.

He wondered if Amelia would call the police first thing in the morning or wait until later on the next night.

* * *

The smell of something dank, putrid was unavoidable as soon as she slipped into the entrance. Had it not been business there would have been nothing that could have made her return to such a horrid sight. They needed to see it, however, and she needed to have them look over the grisly scene.

She swallowed as she focused on yellow tape lining the walls, breaking from the darkness with their warnings of CAUTION and CRIME SCENE. For another person these, and that horrid smell, would have been enough to turn around. The sight did not have to be revealed yet.

That was for another person, though.

Reaching to her belt, Radical produced the flashlight Donatello had given her and turned toward the window. Aiming the object toward the ajar opening, she flicked the light on and off, on and off, then on for good.

Within the moment the four figures appeared as planned. Filing in, the turtles entered only in-differentiable green silhouettes at first. She waited silently as one approached, easily morphing into the Leonardo she knew so very well as he entered the light.

"Are you all well?" she asked gently.

"Fine," Leonardo responded, leering around at the smell. He was familiar with the musk, the dankness, the notable decay. "So this is where _Kame _hit last—that the police know of?" he questioned lowly, his tone much sharper than what Radical had become accustomed to.

"You sound troubled, what's wrong?" she asked lowly. "I don't think everything is alright."

"Everything _would _be alright if I had my other sword," he responded in a hiss before moving toward the central area. "Don, give me the other flashlight you brought. I'll start over here with Mike. You and Raph go over to the corner with Radical and see what you can pick out over there."

Stammering only slightly in his actions, Don did as he was told and produced the second flashlight. Within that instant Leonardo and Michelangelo were off toward their designated area, leaving Radical with the remaining brothers.

Grunting in aggravation, Raphael made his way toward her, only growing satisfied once he noticed the growing confusion on Radical's face.

"Not seen Leo's bitchy leader side?" he asked with a sneer over his face. "Get used to it. As long as he thinks we're 'going on missions' he's going to be acting like this to everyone."

She frowned at the announcement and shook her head. He moved as though he was stepping on glass, more alert and cautious than she had ever seen him before. It was a feat that before she would not have thought possible.

"Raph's exaggerating," Don whispered as he followed Raph toward the corner. He nodded his head as though to remind Radical that they had been directed toward a corner. "Leo's just doing what he does best."

She frowned and followed, wondering to herself just what it was that he did best.

"We've got handprints over here!" Mike shouted in the lowest tone he could manage in the excitement. He then proceeded to hold his hands over his beak, shaking his head. "We also figured out where the body must have been. I don't know why it smells so bad over here, though."

"They say evil has a distinct smell," Leonardo muttered as he lowered onto his haunches, leering at the splatters of near black blood. There was no doubt more left behind by the removed corpse than there was in the corpse itself. Whoever had committed such a crime did not hide his amusement. "Decay."

"So is it evil or decay?" Mike questioned.

"Not now, Mike," Leo warned as he leaned toward the handprint. His head tilted. "It has three fingers whatever it is."

Michelangelo looked to where his leading brother more directly turned the light and felt his stomach double over. He shook his head at the sight. It was one thing to think of another species doing such a horrific thing to an innocent woman. It was something completely different to think that one of their own had done such.

"Three fingers?" Raph asked, turning from the blood trail Radical and Don had followed toward the door. "Are you telling me this thing could be like us? Correct me if you think I'm wrong, but I find it hard to believe that there's any other turtles out there. I _especially _find it hard to believe that they are murdering women."

"No, it's not a turtle at least," Leo stated quickly, looking at the handprint. "The way the fingers are lined up... it's like a human hand but the two middle fingers are missing. Like they've been cut off or something."

"A guy named 'Turtle' decided to cut off his fingers so he had a three-fingered hand?" Mike questioned skeptically. "That's quite a big coincidence, don't you think?"

The others remained silent.

Leonardo rose to his feet before staring over his shoulder. He was not surprised to find that Radical was already looking back at him. It was as though the two were already thinking about the same thing before the question left his mouth.

"How did he leave what his name was, Radical?" he asked lowly.

"It was a kanji," she stated lowly. "He left it written in blood on a turtle shell near the body. The police weren't aware of what it meant until Tsunami and the rest of the Justice Force came along to help. They debriefed me after lunch with you all."

The brothers stared at each other. The Justice Force knew about their existence, about their traditions, about their practices in the arts of ninjitsu, an art that was suspected of birthing such a masterful murderer.

It was the first time they had considered the possibility of being suspects in these crimes.

"It's not turtle for sure, guys," Donatello responded at last as his light hit a distinct pool of red. He narrowed his eyes. "He's human. About an average foot size. Oh, and apparently he prefers killing barefoot."

"He also has had a woman for over twenty-four hours now," Radical reminded them. "Rita Jiminez has been missing. Nurse. She fits the physical description of the other women assaulted except that--"

"She's Hispanic," Leo stated lowly. "He's either becoming more superficial in his murders or he's picked her for some other reason."

"Would that mean she has a chance of getting out alive then?" Raph questioned.

Mike shook his head, looking at the stack of towels used to wipe a long blade clean. He had seen similar patterns on cloth from watching Leonardo cleanse his blades after battle. It had never been that bloody, though.

"It's like the crime shows on TV now, right?" Mike asked. "He's not going to stop because he's learning."

"No," Leo stated as he looked around. "He's... _training..._"

The leader looked more directly toward Raphael and frowned. "Unless someone finds them, I don't think there's a chance that Ms Jiminez will be coming out of this alive."

* * *

The needle entered the flesh then released, entered then released. The skin, dried to a leathery texture after its long exposure to the elements, pulled together with a solid consistency. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was the closest he had felt to _sickening_ in many years.

Yet the pain felt good in a way. It was simply more testament to his change.

Sometimes metamorphosis could not be completed without some amounts of discomfort. He knew that. He always knew that. He was going to make sure _she _knew that. That would all come with time, however.

For now she was serving a much different purpose as compared to the others. She was different. He did not take her because he expected to see the change within her eyes. He knew that she could not see the beast he was within until it was too late.

No, he knew who the special woman was who would be able to see the beauty of his monstrosity. She was too far away, though. Too strong for him for now. He was practicing to get to that point, working up to his new identity.

It would take more time.

This one was very different from the others, that was for sure. She did not cower in the corner away from his might. She did not shrivel up within her consciousness rather than face him as he took advantage of her.

From the beginning she had realized what she was facing. She had no expectations other than death and that allowed her to work for him, prolonging what little time she had left on the earth. He had to admire her for that.

At the same time, he had to pity the fact that she was not one of the stalwart gypsies of his fantasies. If she had been, perhaps she could have finally revealed his transformation in those dark eyes.

"Why are you making me do this?" she asked lowly as she continued to weave through the flesh between his toes. Her hair was a mess, all grease and out of place. Her eyes were red and purpling underneath from her abduction. The blood from her nose was dried over her lip; she did not even bother wiping it.

She continued working with his skin.

"Because I am changing," he responded, gripping the hilt of his katana as he felt the needle stop its passage and the knot begin to be tied in the thread. "Thank you for your services. How long do you think I should wait before walking on them?"

The realization of her death fully upon her, she looked up. Her dark eyes were like tide pools raging, absorbing him whole. "Rot in hell."

He swung the blade, cleanly separating the head from its neck.

"Not before you."

…

A/N: 'Jiminez' is a Mexican surname for 'snob-nosed.'

Please Review


	6. Transforming

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy  
**Chapter Six: Transforming

He watched his breath collect before his eyes. The visible vapor lingered in front of his beak and rushed past his cheeks as he moved forward. His eyes narrowed at the air, watching the breath collect again. It was much like observing a willow wisp break through the air.

Then it disappeared yet again.

The tug of her on his arm pulled him back from his thoughts, though, and he watched her for a few moments. His eyes were transfixed by her, her overwhelming strength, confidence, beauty, and the fact that, out of everyone and anyone she could have been with, she had chosen him.

Him. A lowly mutant who did not exist outside of the shadows, someone who could have offered a beautiful, super powered woman nothing and yet she chose him.

It was that feeling that he could never forget and would always owe her. He pulled her closer as they crossed the street together. He was masked by an old fedora and an older overcoat. She was disguised in a black jacket and two inch heels.

"You didn't need to walk me home," she said as they neared the apartments. "I could have flown into the back alley like usual. It's not as much of a problem as you make it out to be. People in this neighborhood don't usually stick their noses in other people's business."

"And I'm telling you that's not true," Leo responded lowly. "There's always someone watching. It's when they don't confess to it that you know you're in trouble."

"You believe that people have seen the murderer and not admitted to it?" Radical said lowly. Her subtle lips upturned into a chalice frown at him. "I believe that your trust has been deeply injured over the years, Leonardo. I only hope you trust me more than you do the general populace."

He sighed as they came to a stop. She was turning toward her home, still put off with him. He could not blame her. Leo sighed, needing to correct this more than he needed to be right in the argument, a situation he was finding himself in more and more since the relationship has started.

"I am not completely negative toward society, no matter what you think," Leo said lowly. "And I'm sorry about earlier. I was unusually brash toward you."

"Your brothers seemed accustomed to that side of you, Leonardo," Radical responded gently before turning toward him. "Tell me; were you reborn when they left you? Is the Leonardo I know a different Leonardo from the one they know?"

"The brother they know is a leader and an elder," Leo responded lowly. "He never died; he just retired in their absence. But the way you know me has always been there, don't let them act like it hasn't. You just bring him out more than he used to be."

Her gentle, tan face turned slightly, staring into his eyes. "You have not been reborn, then?"

He smiled gently, knowing that she was referring to her own experience of rebirth. "It wasn't like the bolt of lightning that struck the spunky Raven Shadowheart and reformed her into the neo-goddess Radical, no. I was merely changed. I found a new way of life for when my brothers weren't around."

Slowly, her eyes shifted from her to him. His eyes followed. "You cannot live two lives. One shall always have a stronger hold than the other," Radical stated lowly. "I know. I have chosen my life."

He looked at the dark windows towering above, watching as silhouettes formed behind the window panes, as people watched them. Always watching. "I haven't chosen yet if that's what this conversation is leading up to. I will someday, though," he promised. "And you never come second."

Their eyes met again, both wide with surprise. He never meant to add the second part and, until that moment, he had not even realized that he thought of it.

They remained in silence before she leaned forward, her hands gently touching his cheeks as her mouth pressed against his. He felt her warmth brush against his cold body and yet he could not embrace her.

He felt sick to his stomach at his own admittance.

"Goodbye, Leonardo," Radical whispered quietly as she released him from the kiss. She looked deeply into his eyes, frowning at his sudden detachment. "Please stop looking for reasons to not trust those around you. It will make you hard."

She waited for a moment before leaving him at the steps of the apartment. He lowered his head and sighed.

The people watched, waiting for him to leave so they would have nothing left to witness and they could go back to sleep.

* * *

Entering the Lair was like walking into a photo album of their past. It was comforting after the sights they had seen that night, but it was not satisfying. Despite the fact that they were in New York and in the embrace of their eldest brother again, it was still only the Lair. It had been a long time since any of them had called the place home.

Not to mention the events of the night were not completely inviting.

"Worst. Reunion. Ever."

Donatello sighed and watched as Raphael brushed past him and Mike, throwing the bag of supplies he had been carrying on the couch and making his way toward the bedrooms. Don was not going to disagree with him but at the same time he knew that it was not Leo's intentions to drag them into this horrific scene.

"It'll be better in the morning," Don called after him. "I'll tell Leo you went to bed when he gets home."

Raph did not react. Like old times, he closed the door behind him and ignored the happenings outside his own walls. He had made it no mystery that he was homesick for Chicago and the fact that the Bears now took the place of the Yankees on his walls merely made testament to his complete transformation.

Mike did not appear much better and he lived in a basement apartment less than ten miles away.

His pain, however, appeared to be more over the horrors they had seen. He looked almost sickly at the thought of the ungodly crime scenes they had witnessed. His hands had not stopped wringing since they had left.

"You alright?" Don asked gently as he looked more directly at Mike. "It was pretty messed up what we saw today. You shouldn't feel bad if you're a little shaken."

"I don't," Mike said with a sigh. "To be honest, I've seen some Foot ninja leave a worse mess than that and it's when we have half the blood donated. I guess it's just trying to imagine all that blood coming from one person that's… shocking? I dunno. I'm just drained from it all, I think."

Don sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You want to talk about it?"

"Nah, don't worry about it," Mike shrugged as he at last allowed his hands to rest by his sides. "I'm just going to write about it. Get the images out of my system. Who knows? After a while I might get inspiration to work on my new script."

"Oh, okay," Don shrugged as he made his way toward the coffee table where his laptop sat in wait. "I'll let you use my laptop." He looked up to see the questioning gaze of the younger brother, not exactly the appreciation he had been expecting. "What?"

A knowing smirk crossed Michelangelo's face and he shrugged. "Nothing, dude, just that I have my own laptop, y'know? No offense, I prefer Microsoft to Apple and what not. I don't feel like my eye balls are being assaulted every time I open the screen."

Don laughed as he nodded, realizing he had been caught up in his old perspectives. "Sorry, Mike. I keep forgetting you're grown up, too."

"You're not the only one," Mike shrugged with a laugh before waving to Don. "Night, Don. And I know you're going to research whatever the hell we just witnessed but try to get some sleep yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind," Don responded as he settled on the couch, opening his screen on his lap.

* * *

She landed on the roof, coming to a stand before the black clad vigilante. Her eyes narrowed at him as she crossed her arms and neared him more. Radical was not surprised at his lack of reaction. It was merely how Nobody worked.

"I assume that you left a message for me on my home phone for a good reason?" she said lowly. "It was rather a rude thing to do considering you know I like my privacy, Nobody. Or are you going by Rorschach these days?"

"Cute," was all he stated before tossing the folder to her. "Complete copy of the FBI records. It includes the profiling unit's complete psychiatric evaluation of him. Preliminary photos of the new crime scene as well."

"The one dealing with the turtle shells?" Radical questioned as she opened the documents, leering at the grisly sights. She bit her lips as she looked at the women's haunting faces, paled from the hours of draining blood.

Nobody released a gruff snort and looked off. "No, the one found about two hours ago dealing with the missing nurse. I think you'll find the exclusives in that one rather… disturbing to say the very least. Especially considering he didn't touch the woman this time."

"What?" she asked as she looked at him, meeting the blank, white coverings of his eyes. She looked back down and scowled at the wretched pictures and descriptions. "Why was no one at the Justice Force or NYPD alerting me of this?"

"Because you're emotionally compromised," the humiliated former cop responded as he folded his arms and looked over her. "The Force knows that you are involved with one of the boys and while they appreciate your assistance they don't really feel as though your impeccable logic can be relied upon anymore. Sort of like me."

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "No one knows of Leonardo and me other than you, Nobody, and that's because you feel it is your duty to be a narcissistic wreck who keeps an eye on all of his teammates."

"I was never on the team," he responded before pointing at her. "You're treading on dangerous ground, though, Dr Shadowheart. You love your people enough that you may very well be blinded to what evils your own can do. Fact remains, though, that when evil enters any being they are capable of doing anything to anyone."

"What do you mean?" she asked before glancing down to the profile. She read, collecting what was said before raising her piercing gaze to him. "They believe that a Native American is to blame for these heinous acts? Against our own?"

"But he's borrowing the traditions and customs more related to Japanese folklore than his own," Nobody continued. "Care to tell me how many Native American women grace themselves with the presence of Japanese lovers?"

"They have nothing to do with this and you know it," Radical snapped. "How dare you even assume as much after everything they have helped you, helped the Force, with. It's sick and wrong, Nobody, and you know it."

"I know that and you know that. Why else would I be helping you?" Nobody responded. "It doesn't let the Justice Force or the boys in blue trust the either of us any more, though. You've fallen into the same category as me, Radical, especially after that little guided tour you gave of the last scene."

For a moment she stood quietly, lowering her hands and the case file to her side. Her eyes could only narrow, though, as the vigilante ended the exposition with producing a grappling hook from his belt. He was leaving as always.

"One question, Dark Avenger of Justice," Radical stated as she crossed her arms. "Why aren't you helping more on this case? I would think that you'd be very interested in putting away a sicko as deranged as this one."

"I don't work on that side of the law anymore," Nobody snorted before landing the hook on an opposing rooftop. "Not to mention, some leads on a case more personal than this have popped up. My priorities are clear."

"Your priorities are skewed," Radical hissed.

"Well then, I suppose we both can see why I'm compromised," Nobody stated before starting into a run, leaping from the ledge and swinging toward the darkness that consumed his black silhouette.

Radical shook her head and looked to her folder. Her glance moved slowly back down to the file in hand.

* * *

He was not really surprised to come home and see that his brother was still up. Leo merely frowned at the sight of Donatello typing away at the computer, knowing full well that it had everything to do with the crime they had bore witness to that night.

He also fully knew that it was his fault for dragging them through this all.

"Still up, Don?" he asked as he entered. "It's not usually a good sign for your psyche, you know. Staying up late, looking up information on serial killers."

"Yes, well, I can thank you for piquing my interest, Leo," Don reasoned with a sigh. He looked over his shoulder toward the approaching leader and frowned. "You know that Radical perfectly fits the profile of his targets, right?"

Scowling at the reminder, Leo nodded quietly. "Yes. I noticed."

"I can't believe that wouldn't concern you," Don continued as he looked down to his computer screen. It was full of documents related to known psychoanalytical research on the very subject of serial killers.

"Radical's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Leo said lowly.

"That's why you walked her home, right?" Don asked as he shifted a collective look toward his brother. He frowned slightly at the utter scowl he was receiving and shrugged it off. "It was just an observation, Leo."

Shaking his head, Leo attempted to overcome the fact that his captivated state was obvious to his brothers. He never meant for the relationship to get so serious, for his priorities to so unexpectedly change. After they had, though, he had to wonder whether or not he could ever change them back.

"Other than overanalyzing me, have you done anything interesting related to all of this?" he questioned reasonably.

"Well, I can't help but be concerned, Leo, this guy's motives are strange to say the least," Don stated. "He's obviously relating himself to Japanese culture, the arts of ninjitsu, and turtles for whatever reason."

"So he'd be Japanese," Leo deduced.

His brother shook his head. "Serial killers tend to attack within their own ethnicities. All the women he is after are of Native American decent. He's sexually violent so that puts him in the age range of twenty-five to thirty-five."

"If he's Native American, why isn't he using their traditions?" Leo asked. He paused at the familiar vibration and looked down to his belt where his phone continued to buzz. He sighed before answering. "Radical?"

"Leo, I can't talk for long," she started immediately. "A new crime scene has emerged. He killed Rita Jimenez and, Leo, he's leaving body parts behind."

"What do you mean?" Leo asked, his eyes narrowing.

Alarmed to the fact that there was a new development, Donatello stood up. He was reading Leonardo's every reaction, slightly irritating the older turtle and causing him to turn from him. Don frowned, knowing it must be big then.

"He's leaving his own body parts behind," Radical continued. "We think he had her doctor him. That's why she was kept longer than the others. I have to go. Goodbye."

Leonardo stood quietly for a moment.

"What did she say?" Don questioned.

Leo turned and looked at his brother. "You might want to look this part up."

* * *

As he put away his precious bladed, folded under and over in the ordained cloth, he could not help but inhale the distinct, olive oil smell that perfumed the blade after its ritualistic cleansing. It was a thick smell that reminded him of many years beforehand.

It had not been on purpose that he recalled the oil cloth skin and protruding, red eyes of the alcoholic but he remembered the images all the same.

He was no longer a beast but a boy in these captions of a lifelong sense past and he felt incredibly angry as he watched his drunken mother being violated. The individual, whether he was blocked out or the occurrence had been so frequent he wasn't identified, groped and mounted her.

He watched from their Reservation mandated duplex's sliding glass door as his mother looked in the face of her assaulter. She whispered to the man before spreading her drooping, haggard skin open for him.

In that instant, they suddenly merged before the young boy's eyes and he found himself looking not at a scarring memory but a transformation taking place.

It was then that his mother, surrounded by her relics and shadowy mysticism, did what he had seen no other woman do before: show a man for what he truly was. The little boy that stood in the hot, sultry sands of the Reservation that day saw that within each man rested a beast.

He also saw that the only way a man could ever release the beast that was inside was through the aid of a woman. No ordinary woman, but a gypsy woman like his mother.

And within that boy a small creature began to form, unlike any the gypsies would have seen before, waiting for a metamorphosis to take place where the boy, at nine a man that day, could change yet again. Into the beast.

Stirred from his thoughts he looked over toward the window. The break of dawn had stilled his transformation yet again.

It could not do so for long, though. The hunt would soon be on again.

…

A/N: Please Review


	7. A Lycanthope

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy  
**Chapter Seven: A Lycanthrope

Dropping the folder left a startling sound in the strangely vacant air of the Lair. She had not anticipated to have so easily the attention of all four of the mutants once she entered their home but, as she soon found, they each were incredibly interested in anything and everything she did and said.

The only issue appeared to be that it had less to do with the information she was ready to present and more with the fact that she was the aspect of Leonardo's life that had alluded their detection. It was understandable, of course, but it also allowed for her to very easily manipulate their interests.

"This is all the information that the FBI has shared with the police departments thus far," she explained as Michelangelo scooted closer to Donatello on the couch so as to lean on the turtle's shoulder as he tentatively opened the folder and peered through the assorted papers and crime scene photographs. "Some of these cases are cold cases from years past that the department believed could be linked with the killer."

"He had to start somewhere," Raph grunted as he glared at the copied photos which Don laid onto the coffee table.

Radical nodded. "That is precisely what the Bureau believes."

"This all would have been great to have last night," Don sighed as he rubbed his eyes, fighting back the yawns caught in the back of his throat. "If I knew that the FBI and police already had such a complete profile I wouldn't have been so worried about making my own."

"You shouldn't have been doing that to begin with," Leo said in aggravation before turning his attention back toward Radical. "The Justice Force has been given similar copies? I would have thought that the information would be more limited than that."

With a slight flinch of her nose, Radical revealed the disappointment and upset state suppressed within her. The three brothers continued to ogle the horrific images and haunting passages in the profile. Leonardo, however, saw it and it merely confirmed what he had been feeling all along.

"So my sources have told me," Radical responded quietly, staring more directly toward Leonardo.

He was quiet but, as always, his message was clear. _Do you want to talk about it?_ read so clearly from his feature that it could have very well came from his lips. His frown deepened at her hesitance and further more at the shake of her head.

"Alright, Donny," Raph spoke up through the quiet as he abruptly took the files from his brother's hands and turned the documents toward himself. "How right was your profile according to the so-called professionals here?"

Smirking to hide any wanted reaction from his brother's sarcasm, Don looked back down to the file and nodded. "Surprisingly, what little I was able to reason with does coincide with the file from the FBI," he admitted. "Of course, their's is much more thorough and taking an approach that's a little more, well, _psychotic_ than my own."

"I'm going to say _duh_ to that one, Don," Mike responded in a less than cheerful tone. He had been slowly inching back away from the file and his brothers and was at last free of his curiosity's hold. He shuttered and sat back against the couch. "Alright, I'm done looking at that stuff for now. I'm still trying to bleach my memories of the scene last night."

Leonardo, at last taking his gaze from Radical, turned to Don and narrowed his gaze. Likewise, Radical shifted her own focus.

"So what exactly were you right about then, Don?" Leo questioned with great interest.

"Well," Don began, staring at the files as Raphael noisily shifted through them. "I figured that the leaving his fingers behind was testament to the transformative capabilities his murders are giving him. He's becoming something greater than himself through leaving behind the pieces. The FBI agree."

Raph narrowed his eyes as he reached the very page Don was referencing. He looked down, skimming through the thorough analysis. "Their's is just more detailed."

Sighing, Don nodded in agreement before looking at his brother. "Yes, Raph. Forgive my inexperience in dealing with psychotic serial killers."

"These papers say he's just a psychopath," Raph pressed, raising his eye ridges toward his intelligent brother. "It even says not to mistake him for a serial killer because he lacks the certain amount of ethical code and need to uphold standards required to be one."

_"Thank you, _Raph," Don sighed. "I needed that to be pointed out."

"Guys, focus," Leo growled. "Don, what's he trying to transform into and why?"

Frowning, Don pointed at the pictures sprawled across the table which were of his calling cards, the turtle shells decorated with the kanji for turtle. "That's a bit darker than my first profile, too," he explained. "Our friend _Kame_ appears to be a Lycanthrope."

The others stared at Donatello. They all attempted to absorb the information though he could tell just by looking at their faces that they were not sure what to do with the report.

"You're talking about werewolves, right?" Mike questioned unsurely. "I mean, it's been a while since I've been into the whole horror franchise but Lycans are like werewolf dudes." He frowned. "I don't get the connection."

"Well, it's probably because you're only half right, Mike," Don responded. "The most common case of Lycanthropy is when someone believes that they are being transformed into a wolf or werewolf. It's a psychosis that has been present ever since documentation came into history."

"Even my people speak of such transformations," Radical nodded. "Our skinwalkers."

"Yes, it's followed in almost all cultures throughout the world. In more recent years psychiatrists have been attempting to link it to the unsettled and unsatisfied nature of a savage mind," Don explained. "Becoming a beast within himself gives someone a perfect excuse for violence and primordial rage. That's why Lycanthropes most often subconsciously choose animals that have common viewpoint in society as being fearsome, vicious."

Mike stared dully at Don. "Like a _turtle?"_

"No," Leo spoke up, catching on. "Ninja turtle. He's trying to become one of us."

Somewhat surprised by the announcement, Michelangelo turned unsure toward his oldest brother. He shook his head in compliment to a shrug before asking, "I can't tell. Are you being serious?"

"Yes," he retorted.

"Yeah?" Raph questioned, closing the folder and lowering it. He looked toward Leo skeptically. "Why us? _How_ us? That'd mean that he's known about us and what we're about. Is it one of the guys that we've gone up against before?"

Frowning, Radical could see the realization and the shame begin to set in for those who had not already come to this conclusion. "If it was someone you have fought before he would have made it known that he idolized you."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Leonardo responded lowly, "but I think our adversaries in the past have done everything but that."

"But he's seen the four of us," Don continued. "And what he's seen he's grown an intense adoration for, almost a strong sense of loyalty to us. In his mind he is trying to prove himself by working on the vague and mostly generalized understanding he has of our family dynamic and the traditions we carry from Master Splinter and Japan."

"The FBI has a loose concept of this," Radical informed them as she crossed her arms over her waist and frowned at the shell shocked expressions of the family. "They know that he is attempting to live up to a standard and is mixing what little knowledge he possesses with the natural sexual desire and inherent hatred he has."

"Probably from years of abuse," Don concluded.

"It's still not an excuse," Leonardo hissed. "There is someone on the streets using our way of life to punish those he blames for his own self-worthlessness. It's amoral and disturbing but most of all it is unbelievably insulting to everything our master taught us about honor and the ways of ninjitsu."

Shrinking back at the rage pulsating from his brother, Michelangelo looked about before setting his gaze on Don. "Don't these guys usually have like a time frame for killings or something?"

"You're thinking of serial killers," Don explained. "But psychopaths follow a similar compulsion. They just lack the ability to control it for a better opportunity and, judging by his most recent killings, our friend Kame is spiraling downward as we speak. He's probably going to go out and look for his next victim right now."

"No," Leonardo interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "If he's mimicking us he's waiting for nightfall. We break our own rules and we'll be a step ahead of him. And if we're a step ahead of him we've got a chance to make sure that he doesn't disgrace us any further."

Smirking at the rekindling of his brother's darker leadership mode kicking into gear again, Raph nodded and practiced a right hook. "I wouldn't mind making the guy pay myself."

"We have about two hours before nightfall and, if we're right, that gives us time to place ourselves in the triangulated zone," Don responded as he took the file from Raph and pulled out a marked map from its papers.

"Okay, I missed that memo," Mike spoke up as he got up along with Raphael. "What's the triangulated zone?"

"It's an area the FBI has put together, based upon the crimes, to determine where Kame most likely lives or is most familiar with," Radical explained before pointing toward the door. "If we get started now I'll be able to take you to where Silver Sentry believed the greatest danger area was."

Quietly, the three brothers stared at her. They seemed reluctant to react toward her offer and, eventually, only did so with a simple nod. Before they could be expected to react more they were making their ways out into the directed corridor.

Radical sighed for she knew the only reasoning behind doing so was to have her and Leonardo alone.

"I do not like this petty worrying you have been having for me more and more, Leonardo," Radical said slowly, turning and looking at his stoic, flat glare. "I fear that as you become reacquainted with your role with your brothers you are forgetting what you have spent so long learning about me."

"What do you think I'm forgetting?" Leonardo questioned almost arrogantly.

Straightening her stance and narrowing her eyes, Radical revealed a rare change in demeanor; one that Leonardo was both the only one to bring out and to quail. "That I am not the wilting flower of the desert. My strength and my pride are more than fierce and more than enough to encounter any of our opponents."

"And you forget that you match the exact profile of the women this serial killer kidnaps, violates, and senselessly murders," Leo snapped. "You also seem to forget that he does all this in order to impress my brothers and myself."

She gritted her teeth. "I am not like those other girls, Leonardo."

"No, you're not," Leo responded flatly. "You are_ special._ You're the only one that at the end of the day I can't risk losing because you're the only one that will be there when this is all over and be able to convince me that his is not my fault."

Stalling her rage, she stared at him. At first she could not take him seriously but slowly the realization came to her and she felt an immeasurable amount of pathos.

"I need you to be okay when this is over, Radical," Leonardo attempted again, closing his eyes almost bitterly. "And I need to know that, with you, my brothers and I can look back on all of this that's happened and not feel like we could have prevented it."

Swallowing, Radical folded her arms and looked to the ground. "What do you want me to do then?"

He waited a minute, as if he had to consider the event himself. Ever so slowly, however, he came around to his conclusion and sighed. Knowing she would not like it, he continued anyway. It had to come out.

"I need you to not be a hero if anything happens tonight."

Ever so slowly, Radical nodded and looked to her dearest and deepest love. "Very well, Leonardo. I accept. Simply remember that I need the very same from you."

On the contrary, he could not afford to agree.

* * *

Through the window he could see his destiny. It waited for him, ever so quietly, in the not so far distance of a skyline. It was riddled with the jagged edges of the city, pointing upward violently like the weapons of his fellow warriors raised to the heavens.

Soon he would join them but for the moment, Kame would wait behind the sealed glass of his window.

The furious red eye of the sky lowered itself lower and lower toward the end of the skyline and seemed to linger. It was taunting him because it, like so many other eyes before it, disapproved of the man Kame had once been but was no more.

He would see the gypsy soon, though. He could sense the time coming ever closer, the time when he would be ready.

At last the purple hue was dominant in the sky and before another sigh could be breathed, the beast-man named Kame had left the security of glass and stepped into the dangerous training grounds of the city.

…

So... I changed my username. That's about all, though.

Please Review


	8. So Close

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Foot © Viacom  
Kame, story © RenaRoo (formerly Turtlefreak121)

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Eight: So Close

The hollow shafts loomed over the dark, gutted corridor like the burdened canopy of a dying forest. It seemed to grow ever vaster into a stark emptiness, to the Badlands. The tainted earth was only good for absorbing the blood of his people.

This, he knew, would be the best place to bring his next gypsy.

He had not taken the time to reflect upon why he did such things, though each encounter revolved around the gypsies asking more and more _Why Why Why?_ He did not know and, interestingly enough, did not care.

Would others ever truly understand him? Of course not. They considered him a freak. This was why he had sought the cover of the shadows, so much like his turtle brethren. They would understand him or, at least, would soon enough.

They were not ready for him nor was he prepared for them. Among the virtues the lycanthropic warrior borrowed from the sentient creatures was the highly valued treasure of patience. It took training and patience for the ninja to uncover when it was time to strike and when it was time to fade into the abysmal planes.

Every day these creatures walked the barren walk of the Badlands and remained strong, powerful, alive. They were a special beast not man nor animal who could walk the ever darkened broken line of Good and Bad. Laws did not abide to them and, likewise, would not apply to him.

"Patience," he said with a gentle smile, "shall be my greatest weapon. I shall use it with my ever progressive training in order to truly subdue my body's weakness."

The irony of his plans never truly hit home for him. He anticipated too much and could not quail the ever persistent drive to train, to endure, to _kill_ again. It had to be soon for the compulsion was all that was left. He thrived upon it. He _needed _it. Only in that way, he was certain, would he truly ever change.

Not pausing for an instant more, the killer _Kame _made his way onto the streets.

In his mind he acted with pristine accuracy and calmed sacrifice. His veil, in his mind, was his endearing patience. Within his heart the beating drum of tribal rage and the viciousness of blood in need of hasty revenge conflicted.

The past traditions he secreted away with the cruel memories of youth were as much alive in him that day as they had been the day of his mother's rape and departure no matter how hard, often, or much he denied it.

The wind was strangely harsh that day, an omen, it seemed, of great catastrophe. Normally this would have perplexed him and then comforted him. The winds would serve only as further testament to his progress, yet another obstacle to overcome. Then, without warning, he found himself grabbing at the collar of his overcoat.

The overcoat was an ugly, worn out thing. He had found it during midnight scavenges through trash cans. He had watched the turtles do it often and, of course, whatever the turtles could do he could do, too.

He had to become accustomed to such things, after all. He was going to be rightfully living such a life once the transformation was complete.

His thoughts returned to the great metamorphosis at hand, Kame looked about. The streets were strangely more and more bare within this familiar territory and even when there was the rare dark skinned gypsy to be found she was not alone.

That night, however, there appeared to be not a soul. The street, so unruly and lively at all hours with merging cultures and influences seemed all but dead to him. It was unfortunate and terrifying for he knew that if he did not kill that night he would fail to transform.

And that urge to kill would slowly become all consuming and unquenchable.

That was when he saw her.

Strange for such a gypsy woman, she was all legs. Her hair was just right, combed but still free. She looked like she walked out of his dreams and into his path. She was meant for him that night and he could not help but approach her.

There was no doubt that she was more than perfect. She was too perfect. That was never more apparent than when he neared her light and saw the exact face he had long been gazing at, longing for, _pining_ over.

Slowly, a smile grew and he tilted his head at her, ignoring the fact that she was slightly larger than him in those perfect high heels. He could not believe that she had come to him, so early, too, for him to take into himself and become one.

"Can I help you?" she questioned coldly. It was dark, menacing, and yet she could not hide the years of conditioning within her. The time spent smiling and greeting those who entered the museum with the casual question _can I help you?_

He knew then that he was not ready. It was not time. This was a test.

With a smile he backed away from her and glanced about for his audience. His brothers, why wild, silly things they were, must have been behind such a terrible joke. They teased him, as brothers did, by dangling what he wanted most right before his eyes.

She was alarmed, she turned more directly toward him and balled her hands into tight fists. They flattered her more rounded muscles and bone structures he noticed. She looked so dashing to him, he did not know how he could ever resist such a beautiful thing.

"Patience," he said gently as a reminder, grabbing her attention further.

"What?"

Then the movement from the rooftop above captivated him and without a moment to spare the glanced toward the edge where his brothers were lined. He stared at them, their judging, pupiless eyes, and knew that they must have been proud of his ability to resist temptation.

That's when he saw him.

He was utterly stunned at first, incapable of believing he would show. Then he doubted it could have been him, could not have been him, when he saw the shadow unsheathe the sword from behind his shell, the twin to Kame's blade.

He scowled. It was not time for these things yet.

"Don't move!" one brother called from above as they all began to shift about.

Unfortunately for that brother, it was exactly that which he planned to do. They could beg for him all they wanted but the fact remained that he could not join their ranks until he had completed his training and discipline. He also could not take his place until someone in particular merged back with him.

So, without much else to divulge on the subject, Kame ran toward the sanctuary he had found earlier.

* * *

Leonardo was astounded. He had had so many hideous images within his mind of a emasculate, disfigured man with uneven proportions and hideous features. That was what a monster was meant to look like, to be spotted and pulled aside from regular company almost immediately.

This young man, if he was indeed Kame, was not a monster at all.

He was young, fair looking. His skin, while marred on his hands by his 'metamorphosis,' was even toned, presentable. Everything about him seemed clean cut, orderly, and well taken care of though he seemed oddly distant in his first interaction with the disguised Radical.

As he approached, though, he gained a skip in his step and began to move in rhythm with an unheard song. It was then that Leonardo saw the practiced steps and distinguishable signs of something sinister just beneath the surface.

When the young man suddenly sprinted off, he knew without a doubt that this was Kame. They were on his trail.

"Come on!" Leo called to his brothers as he took the lead, his heart pounding and his eyes narrowed. "That's him, we're not letting him get away that easily!"

He ran out ahead, waving his arm frantically at Radical as she took the air. She had to attempt to head him off. If they could box him in there would be no way he could get away. The turtle did not even have to look in order to know that Radical had taken his orders.

The mind of the turtle raced with a thousand thoughts but could not negate the one which overwhelmed him. _I saw the face of a murderer._

It swam in his mind over and over again. The image, the shock, the intense hatred now associated with such a terrible criminal was all stuck in the forefront of his mind without any relief. Kame, or whatever his real name might have been, was going to forever be there in his thoughts as the face he never suspected.

They rounded the corner not too long after they had landed in the vile alley which the murderer had taken. Leonardo gritted his teeth as he saw the new passageway was bare as well and questioned how he had moved so fast.

Radical landed in front of them with a narrowed gaze of her own, she looked to Leo directly. "He did not come the other way around. He must have entered this construction site instead. I am sorry, Leonardo."

He ignored the apology and glanced over to the structure before them. The alley was thin and the makeshift fence around the former demolition site was laughable. He noted the obvious though overlooked building error that whoever was in charge of the construction of the new building was using the unstable structure of the old.

It was open, though, and easily accessible to anyone or _thing_ which was desperate enough to use it.

The plastic linings served as an opaque visual impairment which Leonardo knew this Kame character, had he truly been taking their style from them, would attempt to use against them.

In other words, Leonardo could see they would have to proceed with great caution.

"Alright," he said before looking to his brothers and love. "Don, Mike, head in on the bottom left window; Raph, go with me to the second floor right. We'll meet in the center and either trap him or smoke him out."

"You have forgotten me," Radical interrupted with a bit of hesitation in her voice. She did not know what to make of Leo as an authority figure. He sympathized with her and hoped to explain the character trait to her better some other time.

"No, I haven't," he fought back the snap, knowing they were wasting time as it was. "You're flying above and keeping an eye out for him. You'll grab him before he gets away but be careful for anything he might have weapon wise."

Before anyone could react or object, Leonardo took off for the next building's fire escape. Raphael was soon on his heels and they climbed quickly together, entering the building. They moved silently, in sync, like old times.

So much was happening but Leonardo was too focused on the shadows once they stepped onto the shaky floorboards of the newly constructed second floor. He looked around with a narrowed gaze and looked about, looking for that face.

_I saw the face of a murderer. _

He looked for that unsuspecting face and urged for it to emerge. He knew that if it was to come through the darkness one last time he would not be shocked by its simple, pleasant manner. He had seen the demon for what it was. The beast within the shell of a man would not escape his harsh judgement now that he _knew what it was._

That was when Raphael pointed toward the gaping hole within the unfinished floor to the story below as the image of something advancing quickly across what would soon be a foyer.

There was no doubt in Leonardo's mind that it was Kame.

"Why is he running out?" Leo questioned lowly as they stealthily made their way toward the hole. He knew that a ninja, as Kame aspired to be, would stick to the shadows. In the darkness he could set a trap.

To run forward in clear sight was only used once the trap had already been set.

His eyes widened and he stopped. The click of something from the first floor sounded. The second was paused. His heart paused and he felt the jarring catch his breath. He grabbed Raphael's arm and yanked him back with him toward the window as he felt the words screech from his throat.

"GET OUT!"

Thrusting Raph forward toward the window, he sensed that they would possibly escape this time.

Then there was a bright flash and the force of some sort of impact against his shell caused him to tumble forward, crashing into a blur of objects. His eyes closed and in the darkness he watched the face emerge yet again.

_I saw the face of a murderer._

* * *

There had been a split second, one in which Radical had an option.

She had sensed the wrong in this plan the moment it was hatched but things were so quickly placed in action, so smoothly moving, that she had no time to interject. She had to continually remind herself that she was _not_ part of this team. She had to trust what Donatello told her was right and that her dearest love was doing what he did best.

She heard the cry from the second floor immediately and could sense that everything was about to go down hill and about to do so fast.

Swooping downward, Radical noticed up ahead that the man, now a black silhouette on a dimly lit street corner. He was fading, fading away until soon enough he would be nothing but a translucent memory. If she did not go for him then there was no way she would get an opportunity so easy again.

The seconds counted down and she found the air around her, the air which kept her aloft, pulsated with a terrible force. It rocked the air and her along with it, causing her joints to ache, screaming out that _pain_ was going to be felt and felt soon.

Radical found her decision was made for her.

Racing downward, Radical prayed to see her beloved's face amidst the arriving flames, that she could catch his outstretched arms and peel him away from the distress. To make this happen she had to move faster than she ever had before.

Through the window she went and immediately grabbed the two outstretched arms of different individuals. She flew back, pulling into the air again only to be forced off course at the frantic burst of heat.

For those she held dear she continued climbing upward through the air before arriving on the rooftop.

Laying down the two turtles, Radical felt her head spin, her heart sink, her stomach tighten. She could not be happier that she had saved them but, as she turned to the growing flames and the smoldering debris, she also felt a cry emerge from her throat.

The two turtles she had saved were Michealngelo and Donatello.

Raphael and Leonardo could very well have still been in the flames.

* * *

He laid there, writhing in pain. He was not sure if he had any actual injuries to speak of but he knew that his entire body was wrecked from being thrown through the air. His land, although he had fortunately closed his eyes to miss it, had been long and hard.

Had Raph fallen all the way down from the second floor window? Had Leo been behind him?

"Leo," he managed to groan before pushing against the ground with his right arm, turning him onto his shell and giving his head more range of motion. He looked about weakly, black blotches threatening to enclose his vision.

Not far from him, in the red glow of the raging flames, Leonardo laid sprawled out across the alley they had landed in. He was still unconscious, he had taken a greater blast Raph thought. He was behind him when it happened? Or was he?

For a moment he focused on his brother, thinking back to all the times that they had escaped tragedy by the skin of their teeth like this. They were lucky at being unlucky. Turtle luck. Then his gaze shifted.

Above Leonardo was a shadow, its blackened body moving about, kneeling lowly above him.

Sorely, Raphael pushed himself up further. He felt the pain firing up but it became secondary to emotion. It was a bubbling, consuming need to protect his older brother. The emotion could not keep his tired body from hesitating, though, as he witnessed something truly horrific.

The exposed hand of the blackened beast, a three pointed prong stitched gruesomely and unhealthily yellow and green between the remaining digits, reached out and gently stroked the leader's face, tracing his beak with a strangely affectionate touch.

Raphael managed to stand, jaw still slackened in shock, unable to react.

Kame leaned forward, as if to press his face against Leonardo's, examining his beak and lips so strangely, so obsessively. He made a move, a second three fingered hand producing a knife. The blade shimmered in the fire's light.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM!" Raphael at last screamed from the top of his lungs and flung the first thing he could grab from his belt.

Kame looked up, screaming out as the shuriken buried itself into his nose. His face exploded into a red blast, tearing into the flesh. He leaped up, backing away from the scene, glaring at Raphael, before taking off.

The black finally blurred with what little vision he had and Raphael found himself doubling over onto the ground again, hoping that his other brothers would come to them before Kame came back.

…


	9. Suspicions

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Nine: Suspicions

The dank atmosphere was almost overwhelming as the silver clad titan of a man landed near the former inferno. The walls were lit up with red and blue siren lights, flashing in unsynchranized patterns, of ambulances and fire trucks and police vehicles.

Silver Sentry's eyes narrowed as he gazed over the scene. Firemen sat on the fenders of trucks, taking turns dunking their hands into a water bucket and using it to water their brows. Ash and soot covered them but they had done a good job. The building which had combusted when a flame sparked by the unsub hit a pile of gasoline cans was at last extinguished.

The ambulance checked the wounds of the fire fighters and checked again for any possible survivors. The police, combined with their requested federal agents, kept the people at bay and swarmed around one ambulance's back in particular.

There was where other members of the prestigious Justice Force were gathered. Their arms crossed and faces hardened as they were debriefed by one of their own. They waited patiently, cooperating completely with their fellow crime fighters.

Everyone was doing their job to the satisfaction of the team's leader. All, that was, except for one and that one was who Silver Sentry felt a certain amount of hurt from.

He neared the ambulance, paying no heed to the way the people separated like the ocean waves before a god, and made his way to his teammates. They all looked to him with a nod and backed off, revealing a slightly damaged though proudly upheld Radical.

"Are you hurt?" Sentry questioned with a stoic glance to the purpled lip and gashed hand of the fellow super heroine.

"I am fine," Radical responded. "Slightly dehydrated. Once I have some water I will be healed and my strength restored. I was merely waiting to debrief the police and rest of the team before doing so."

He frowned, crossing his arms across his barrel chest. "Team? What _team?"_

There was a moment's pause in which Radical was utterly silent. She seemed to be absorbing the question, investigating Silver Sentry's deeper meaning, but was too afraid to arrive at a conclusion. Through her exterior she was stoney and unmoved however it did not take Silver Sentry's x-ray vision to see the fear that cowered within her.

"The Justice Force," Radical continued.

"Oh, you mean a part of _our_ team," Silver responded with a slight scowl. "The one that I had to stick my neck out and convince Stainless Steel Steve on my honor to add you to? See, I'm a little confused because I thought to be a part of a team that someone had to be willing to stick with the rules and do things through genuine _teamwork_. Not as an afterthought."

"I did nothing wrong," Radical insisted.

Sentry looked about to his other teammates. He did not like playing the bad guy, it was against everything he had held dear in his crime fighting career. When he looked to the others, though, he saw the same distrust and hurt in their eyes that he was experiencing.

It was one thing for Nobody to be rogue. He was not even really part of the team. He was more of an ally. Radical was a blue blood member as far as they were concerned, though. They could not afford for her to be a loose cannon.

"I saw him," Radical continued. "Kame. I saw him."

Slowly, with great interest, Silver Sentry turned back to the Native woman and looked at her. Those hard eyes seemed to bore into him, convincing even his strong will that she was being completely and utterly truthful under these circumstances.

"He's a lycanthrope," Radical continued. "He believes he is transforming himself into an animal."

"We already know that," Silver Sentry concluded. "He associates himself with turtles."

"Yes, but you didn't know that it was a mutant turtle," Radical responded lowly. "You may have thought it but I know it and there is no way to explain these things to the federal agents without exposing friends we have all sworn to keep secret."

"Some of us more so than others," he silenced her before glancing about. The eyes of special government forces gazed hard at him beneath the brims of hats labeled with the bureau's iconic name. "The FBI does not trust metahumans enough as it is. You're asking me to keep a secret which will compromise everything involved with this investigation."

"It will be worth it," Radical responded quickly. "I will not stand for innocents, especially those who we consider ourselves _allies_ to, to be placed in the crossfire because the Force is concerned with some pressure from the government."

Silver Sentry shook his head in disappointment with Radical's accusations. He did not like his character being put under scrutiny by anyone. This went double for an accomplice he had fully placed his faith in before. He liked Radical but he had a responsibility and a duty to uphold.

"The Justice Force has never nor will it ever allow for harm to come to the names of innocents, Radical," he said sternly. "But you will have to see us prove so at another time."

Her hardened eyes turned to him more directly. "Excuse me?"

"Your membership is currently suspended, Radical," Sentry said in a louder, booming voice, allowing the federal agents and New York Police to finally hear in on the private conversation. "You're not to be involved with this case or the Justice Force until I tell you otherwise."

She glared at him for a moment before standing up. The medic turned at the motion and reached out to stop her but Radical had taken to the air before they could blink. The rest of the Justice Force watched their fellow member in complete and uncertain silence.

* * *

Jolting, he felt a cool precipitation wet his beak. He glanced about wildly, expecting something to leap out at him from the lingering sensation of _something_ being near him. He looked around, waiting for an answer but nothing came of it. Instead he was facing his brothers and, slowly, he began to become inexplicably relieved.

Everyone was fine and whatever had caused his caution was obviously a threat no more. It had to be pushed out of his mind for the moment as simple nerves. He would think through them later. At the moment he had to deal with a headlock Mike had put him in and his brother's adoring nookie.

"You were out for about an hour, dude!" Mike laughed. "Way to come back to the world of the living."

"If I was knocked out then it's probably not a good idea to cause worse damage to my head, Mike," Leo grunted as he pulled off of the younger turtle. Slowly, he hardened his gaze. He never liked being knocked out. It was a bad situation but also one that meant that he was vulnerable, unable to help his brothers. No matter how brief it might have been, unconsciousness meant losing time in a situation that was measured in _seconds_.

It also meant that he missed something and while he had a clue what it might have been he could not shake the feeling that he was not going to like the answer.

Still, he was obligated to ask. "What happened?" he began. He narrowed his eyes at the generally sour expressions on the others' faces in reply. "Kame? Did we lose him?"

"He got away after the explosion," Don answered, bringing Leonardo's attention to the bluish circle surrounding his left eye. "Radical got Mike and myself out from the first floor and flew us to a rooftop a little bit away."

"Yeah, dude, I got manhandled by your girlfriend," Mike said as he wrinkled his beak with a grin. He seemed undamaged in large though by the faint scent that came off of him Leo detected a shower with extra scrubbing could explain the undertone of ash.

He cleared his throat slightly, looking down to his own soot laden hands, cleaned just around the bandages. Leo frowned as he began to notice the sting each time he flexed his wrist. Burns. He could only hope they were not too terrible.

Recalling the event, he widened his eyes and looked about. "What about—"

"I'm fine, Fearless, cool it," Raphael snorted from Leo's favorite chair where he was reclined. His shoulder was bandaged as was his right thigh but other than that he had less than severe cuts and bruises over his body. They were lucky, all of them.

Shaking his head, Leo sighed. "I underestimated him, everyone. I'm sorry, but now we know what not to do next time," he stated. "Did he have that stuff already rigged to explode or is the luckiest son of a bitch alive?"

"Looking like the latter," Don sighed as he admitted. "The construction site was not only not following protocol but hadn't put away any of its equipment like it was supposed to. They might as well have handed Kame the keys to a lock box of dynamite."

"They might have, the place looked like it needed to be demoed anyway," Mike added.

"Where's Radical?"

"Controlling our press coverage," Don explained to Leonardo, visibly fighting back the urge to tell Leonardo to sit back down. Leo could appreciate the understanding he and his brothers had grown over the years; an understanding of unquenchable stubbornness. "She's also going to talk to the Justice Force and get us some new information if she can."

Leo nodded before glancing around. His eye ridge furrowed as he sensed an unspoken tension. He knew the moment that Raph averted his eyes that he was missing some bit of information.

It was not some sort of injury Leo had yet to see, that sort of information they would have given him up front, so Leo had to figure out what it could be. It had to rest in the time frame of his unconsciousness, though, and he had to ask himself what that could be.

"What new information do _we_ know?" he asked, keeping his attention on Raphael. By being unrelenting he hoped to force his brother into talking about the missing piece. He could only hope it would run true.

"What do you mean?" Don asked.

"I learned not to play with fire," Mike said with a wave of his finger. "And that soot is really hard to get out of the crevices of our shells even if we do have that loofa thingy on a stick."

"I mean while I was unconscious, about Kame," Leo redirected the conversation. He folded his arms, ignoring the stiffness of his own muscles and the tang of pain firing up from his hands. "Raph? You're not saying much?"

"For ten minutes could you stop treating us like criminals, Leo? Christ!" Raphael spat before, at last, looking at his brother. He shook his head and leaned back into the recliner. "I was gonna let Don tell you since he's the profiler wanna be. Kame tried to pull a knife on ya while your lights were out so I kicked his sorry ass."

Shocked, Leo looked at Raphael long and hard before scowling. "You confronted him? Without any help? You let him _get away?"_

"Wow, Leo," Raph snorted as he rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you might, I don't know, thank me for saving your shell. Instead I can't tell if you're more pissed off that I fought the bastard or that I let him get away, neither of which were my choice, thanks. I could have let him cut your face off and play trick-or-treat with it, y'know."

For a moment Leonardo paused before looking at Raph more softly, allowing his arms to drop. "He was going to do what to me?"

"He was going for your beak from what Raph could tell," Don clarified before stepping over to Leo. His frown straightened and he sighed. "Which got Mike to thinking that he wanted to, well, use your beak or face as sort of a mask. It makes sense with cases of lycanthropy in which a subject could use the skin of the animal they wish to become as sort of a mask or costume."

"Ugh, that's disgusting," Raph uttered as he looked off.

"Yeah, well Don's who made it worse," Mike protested with an accusing finger directed toward the said brother.

Growing a further and further horrified, Leonardo turned a quick heel toward Michelangelo. "Worse? I almost had my face cut off! How could anyone possibly make that worse than it already is?" he demanded rather harshly.

"Well, we got to thinking after Raph woke up," Don said lowly, his head ducking slightly as he continued. "Leo, you were really the only_ ninja_ active in New York for the past few years and to reach the understanding of our ways, no matter how superficial they may be, Kame had to have been watching someone for a long time."

His eyes narrowed at the notion and he already began to shake his head. "Are you insinuating that I had someone follow me and didn't know it?"

"No, Leo, you know when people are watching you, no one doubts that," Mike reasoned. "But even you admit that you usually blame that on the Foot, even when you don't know if they're there. And even you said this guy was good, we didn't expect him to walk up and be Kame even when we saw him. Maybe you never noticed him."

Leonardo doubted it. He truly did.

"The fact remains, Leo, that you're the focus rather than us in general," Don said with a slight frown. "That changes the situation entirely. It makes it more dangerous for us particularly. If you somehow more perfectly fit into his mold, his aspirations then it makes him much more developed as a sociopath than we first assumed. It also means that we might have triggered something."

Leo looked intently to all of his brothers. "Us? How?"

"He means _me," _Raphael snapped, turning a cold eye to his brothers, particularly at Leo. "He means that when I beat him at the scene I might have caused something to snap. Maybe he's worse now. But who cares. We all came out alive. That's all that matters."

Holding his breath, Leonardo watched as his brother turned his head away from them yet again and could not help but sigh. He had to agree with Raph, their safety was, ultimately, all that mattered.

Yet, something chilling came through his body the moment he thought of the idea that the murderer had touched him at his most vulnerable, that he was some sort of target; he could be at _fault._

_

* * *

_

"Stupid, Stupid, _Stupid!" _he cried out as he paced, his fingers working their way past his lips so he could bite on them and their fleshy, itchy stitching. It was a nervous tick he had developed and subsequently forgotten in youth. It had been a while since he was weak enough to rely upon it again.

Yet he chewed and gnawed on them again like no other. He groaned at the mistakes he had made that night.

He almost destroyed himself, the gypsy, and _the brothers_. In one night he could have lost everything he had worked and trained for for so long. He paced and paced. His transformation had almost been complete so why were things suddenly attempting to blow up?

It had been a nervous, thoughtless reaction, lighting the match and tossing it. A simple means of escape. He had taken note of the construction sight before, thinking that he could use it had he come across the dreaded forces of justice which were chasing after him, never did he think he would almost kill the turtles.

They were going to be his brothers, his family. No wonder he was such a screw up! He almost lost them because of nerves.

"Loser, you're such a _loser!_" he cried out to himself before slamming his fist into the wooden table, an heirloom of his mortal human family, and causing its already damaged legs to fold in, permanently ruining a former priceless artifact.

Even when he had a chance to set things right, correct some wrongs, he had botched it! Being defeated by a slurring, half conscious brother. It was the bad one, too, the one who never did as he was supposed to.

How was Kame to take his place as leader with such incompetence working against him? With such a rude and defiant brother fighting him? How was he going to do it all?

And that was when he recalled the steroids from his cabinet, the ones he kept for his home training and the occasional night prowl. These very pills had been useful in getting his body to the physical point he needed to catch up with his turtle brothers.

He quickly took them down and began to lay out a plan to use them.

The pills which had once prepared and trained him would suddenly be used to perfect him. He no longer would be at his 'brothers'' level, he would surpass and _defeat _them!

…

A/N: Please Review


	10. Love, Brother

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom

quote © Friedrich Nietzsche  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy **  
Chapter Ten: Love, Brother

It had been a long week for the people on the force. Every rock had to be turned over and every cockroach that came crawling out had to be questioned. There were no answers given that they did not already know and they had camera crews, frantic citizens, and federal agents breathing down their necks because of it.

Everyone wanted to know _what did the police know?_

No one wanted to hear or say that they did not know anything more at that moment than they had the day the realized they had a serial killer on their hands. Pretty soon even the Justice Force was going rogue on them, unreliable.

It was not just the woman named Radical either. As the profile of who Kame wanted to _kill_ became broader and broader the less and less the Force became settled. They were going to get answers their own way.

Native American groups of the city began to turn on the police force they had come to as the murders first started happening and rallied behind their beloved Radical instead. A week after the incident at the construction site and not only was Kame killing faster but the people were less reliant on the NYPD for justice.

The detective had looked over the mob killing of a young Native American boy, college age, who had been questioned once by the NYPD. He had solid alibis for the majority of the murders and other than physical appearance did not fit the profile of the killer Kame.

That did not keep a Latino gang, upset over the slaughter of Rita Jiminez and the lack of pace in the official investigation, from lashing out at the only true suspect.

As a detective of the law for many years, he had come across public outrage before. In fact, he was rather used to it. Once he had been forced to work against it and the trouble it caused over the investigations. When one case in particular became personal, however, and he felt the similar urgency of a victim, he enforced it.

Entering the crime scene of the newest Kame murder, he found the stench of stagnant blood all too familiar, and the image of the silver clad hero supervising all but uninviting.

He had hoped that, just this once, the Justice Force could step out of the limelight and allow him and his men to do their work. More or less, though, he needed some information from the superhero group's iconic leader.

"Silver Sentry," he called lowly as he managed his way toward the hero, producing his badge so as to escape any immediate suspicion. He then folded it and hid it in his pocket yet again. "How long have you been on the scene?"

"Long enough to know that this is the work of Kame," the leader admitted before turning toward him. "Also to know that this is ever so quickly becoming work that my bunch is not involved with. Our presence is keeping the media more interested but we're not trained profilers. This is the police's work and we're taking away from it."

It was also the kick in the ass the police in New York needed, though, and the detective knew that more than anyone. "I suppose that's why you've sent all your men either back home or onto missions elsewhere in the world then."

The Sentry stared at him and raised a curious brow. "Now how did you know—"

"I watch the news, Silver Sentry," the detective stated before folding his arms. "I'm taking it that all of you are backing off from the case because there's bad publicity in letting a serial killer loose and having no way of stopping him, right?"

"We're not the attention hogs you presume us to be, Detective," Sentry responded as he lowered his arms. He was offended but the detective couldn't help but feel that it was because he knew it was, in part, true. "We are very concerned for this case but there's not much we can do unless the FBI wants us to catch Kame in a foot chase. We both know that's not going to happen."

"Perhaps," he replied candidly before rubbing his chin. "Why hasn't the one hero, what's her name? Radical. Why hasn't she been around to help out? She seemed interested in the case the last time I saw her around."

"Radical isn't working on this one, it's too close to home for her," Silver responded before being forced to face the detective's back.

The detective knew where he would find her later when he was dressed more suited for the occasion. He neared the scene where Ronda Johnson, a black haired woman of mixed descent, had earlier laid in a pool of her own blood mixed with the unsub's. As a boxer for most of her young, adult life, Ronda had landed a few good ones on the attacker before her death.

She had done her share for the cops, something that should have never been asked or taken from her, but the detective silently thanked her sacrifice and looked to the handwritten letter on the table. He frowned at the message and pulled out his crime scene camera.

He made sure that the images he took got the full extent of the letter as well as the chilling signature.

Silver Sentry had no clue how close to home this crime truly was for Radical, but Nobody knew.

* * *

She had detected the familiar feeling of being watched early on into her second shift. The Native American cultural exhibit had been rushed under the pressures of the local community. Her people needed once more to feel the power and beauty of their race after it had been so brutalized by the killer Kame.

Dr Shadowheart shared such concern and likewise worked perilously to fix the exhibit and have it ready. She wanted to see the beauty the men of the tribes could create rather than the ruin that could equally be brought about by their hands.

Working had helped somewhat in keeping her mind at ease but she was still followed. When she left that afternoon she made sure it was dark and that she was alone with the shadow which had been so hot on her trail. Then she approached him.

"You are lucky that I sensed it was you else I might have ripped your arm off, Nobody," Raven admitted as she approached her friend.

He did not seemed impressed but, then again, Nobody never did seem impressed with much of anything. He merely kept his scowl from behind the black mask and tapped the file underneath his arm to bring her attention to it.

She looked and smirked. "I see. So you have some more interesting findings from the FBI. Or is it from the Justice Force this time?" Radical questioned curiously.

"Depends," he responded in his usual, raspy tone. He pulled out the file and placed it in her hands.

"Nobody, whatever would I do without you?" she asked with a sigh as she took the file and placed it under her arm. Raising her brow, she could not help but toy with him. "You know, we really must stop meeting like this. It will give my boyfriend the wrong impression."

"Then tell him I'm not interested in either of you," he snapped back, cutting through her ploys. "You can also tell him that I'm getting tired of sitting the fence here. I may have helped you this far, Radical, but that's because you've been getting to the heart of the matter, working to solve this case so no more innocent girls had to die at the hands of a monster."

Narrowing her eyes, the good doctor backed up and scowled at the negative implications. "That is what we are still trying to do."

"Maybe," he admitted before shaking his head. "But there's a possibility that you are all making this worse. You'll see what I mean in the copy in that folder. I like you, Radical. You share that same drive which the Justice Force has been utterly lacking since it began to work on the good side of the feds. But so help me, God, if I find out that you and the turtles are making things worse in this city by playing cops and robbers then I will have all five of your asses booked before you could blink. And don't think just because I don't have super powers that I can't do it."

Radical gnashed her teeth, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You're a fine one to talk, Nobody. The entire reason you took up the hood and cowl was for crime which you took too personally. And, if I remember correctly, you've broken quite a few laws over the years on your own in order to put away the guys who deserve it."

Frowning, Nobody shook his head. "If you think this is going to end with Kame coming to a cruiser in handcuffs then you're kidding yourself. Someone's going to die, Radical, and it's either going to be Kame or the object of his affections. If you haven't realized that yet then you need to back off."

She waited a moment, staring at him before shaking her head.

"We're doing the best we can, I promise," she said. "If possible then we will get Kame in court where he can properly receive the punishment he deserves. That doesn't happen then, well, how many times have you backed off of a case because you knew it would end in a blow out?"

Nobody fidgeted in the darkness before turning away. "Not enough," he admitted before producing his grappling hook from his belt. He looked over his shoulders and nodded to the folder. "When you show that to Leonardo, be sure to tell him this, too. When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you."

Radical held the folder against her chest and watched her friend disappear once again into the night. It was something she had gotten used to and yet it bugged her. If the one superhero in New York which had the most questions of sanity worried about her and the turtles, what did it say about them?

She decided to keep the last comment to herself until she figured that out.

* * *

Entering the sewer home once again, Radical could not help but notice the dramatic change in atmosphere which had practically occurred over night. The arrival of Leonardo's brothers had elated some old, gathered spirits of the home which once haunted her love in deceitful memories. Suddenly they were shared joy, reminding them of their times together rather than how apart they had grown.

Then, as soon as the joy had came, it had left and the Lair, while collective in spirits, was suddenly a very hostile environment. It was full of a reminder for her now: that she was still not family. She did not share that automatic bond of trust even with her other half.

It was a feeling that hurt Radical deeply and she did not think that the others were even aware that they portrayed such emotions on her. She was a fighter, though, and would earn what she currently lacked. Of that she was sure.

As she came into the living room she noticed that the four had already gathered with their discarded pizza boxes surrounding them as they looked over spread out files. The news was on full blast on the television screen and Radical had to shake her head at the seriousness that was reflected even in Michelangelo's features.

"You're early," Leonardo remarked as he walked over to her. He hugged her and Radical did her best to not demonstrate how put off she was by his purposeful lack of affection.

It was a relationship problem they would have to discuss in private but until then she gave him the benefit of the doubt maybe he just wanted to keep his façade as the fearless, responsible leader of the brothers.

"I have more information curtsey of my favorite spy," Radical responded simply before looking about the room.

It was odd how much the living space, the one area of the home that was supposed to be devoted to recreation and freedom from outside problems and responsibilities, was the most polluted with the research for the investigation. The image merely reinforced what Radical had feared for some time, that the brothers' reunion, their lives, suddenly revolved around Kame and his heinous crimes.

The words continued to press themselves against the wall of her mind, as if Nobody was standing beside her. _When you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks into you._

"I don't know if you've noticed, Rad, but the Lair's sorta filled with info as it is," Raphael retorted with a thumb directing her attention to the pictures and clippings lining the east wall. "No offense to the newest victim, but we've all seen enough of what Kame can do."

"Yeah, I keep killing samurai in my new script because every time I close my eyes dead bodies are all I can see!" Michelangelo complained as he rubbed his face roughly.

"Well, Mike, the same thing happened to you when you watched too many episodes of those crime shows, too, so it's not really all that surprising," Donatello lamented before rubbing his chin. He studied Radical for a long while before cocking his head to the side and pointing at her folder. "That seems a bit thinner than usual."

At that statement, Leonardo looked suspiciously down to the file and pulled a queer face. He was struggling to decide whether or not this was a good thing. The curiosity was eating at him.

Yet he did not say anything. He did not say a lot after the last encounter just like he did not show much affection. Radical did not know if it was just in the _joy_ of being in her presence or if something deeper was wrong with her closest companion.

Under the current circumstances, however, she only had the option of revealing what was in the folder and put off the mystery of what was bothering her other half for another time.

"That would be because it's only one scan this time, Don," she revealed before unveiling the copy and presenting it to the four curious turtles. "Like you said, the crime scene itself was nothing a second copy of any one of the other murders couldn't provide you but this, this is a letter from Kame."

It took a collective moment of breathless silence between the mutants for the news to completely sink in and even then it did not appear to be enough to settle the questions. All at once they were coming closer and closer, starving for the new information.

None read it out loud as if hearing any one of them saying it would be like hearing the voice of the author.

Radical had already read the letter, though. More times than she could recollect on and, in doing so, could recite the simple message by heart.

_I wonder why you look for me. I wonder what more taunting I can take._

_Or perhaps it is patience you lack. Do you wait anxiously for my transformation to be complete? So that I may finally lead the Clan to the shining destiny it has always deserved?_

_I hope it's neither. That you can explain to me later why you're acting so foolish and childish. Unruly jesting and impatience are both vices to the good ninja and, once I am leading, I'll make sure that neither are allowed._

_We have all been under a power which is too weak for too long._

_Love,  
Brother_

"I bet the police are just scratching their heads, don't know what to make of this," Mike lamented.

"It's addressed to us and I don't know what to make of it!" Raphael snapped I reply before gritting his teeth. "This guy's calling himself our brother and leaving his message over the dead bodies of some helpless girls because he had mommy issues at some time!"

Crossing her arms, Radical sighed at the analogy. "I am sorry to say that the girls are becoming, more and more, far from helpless, Raph," she explained. "He's going after bigger, stronger women. Women coming out of gyms, boxing rings, wrestling matches—"

"Challenges," Leo muttered before holding his hand to his beak and beginning a small pace not far away from the group.

Overlooking Leo's behavior in order to give the eldest some much needed space, Donatello stepped up and frowned, being the first to take the paper from Radical's folder. "Our friend has always been delusional in the sense that he truly believes a metamorphosis will take place in which he will transform from—to use your words for it, Raph—an utter loser to Leo."

Radical glanced to Leonardo and frowned at the lack of response. She knew he was paying attention.

"We're still trying to figure out how much of an improvement that is, too," Michelangelo attempted to jest only for it to be overlooked.

"We're just feeding this desire of his," Leo spoke up at last, pausing his stride and turning toward them all. "Making contact with him was a mistake. I should have seen that earlier but I wasn't reading him right. That's my bad. I won't let it happen again."

The three looked to each other solemnly and Radical could understand why. Leonardo should not have been taking it on himself. They had all made the mistake, even Radical. And she also had the nerves telling her that she had been warned previously by her team, the police, and even Nobody.

"Alright, I can sign up for that," Raph nodded. "But what are we gonna do now that what we've already done is out of the question?"

_"We?"_ Leo questioned before scowling at his brothers. "You guys are due home. You don't need to stick your necks out any more than you already have. I don't even know why you're all still here. It's not exactly been the most welcoming homecoming we've ever had."

The four were all put off at the same time in the subtle ways brothers can dig at each other's nerves.

"What, something finally exciting happens in this god forsaken city and you're expecting me to leave?" Raph snorted. "Too bad, Bro."

"I'm with Raph, Leo," Don admitted with a smirk. "Don't think this only deals with you, it deals with all of us. We want to see this scum face justice just as much as you and, well, I'm still waiting for a calm sit down where we can pretend to be normal."

Mikey smirked and shrugged. "Like I could escape it anyway, Leo. I live like four blocks away."

For the first time in a long time, Radical could feel Leonardo's spirits be calmed and she was glad. She was glad that he was not going to press harder to end the family reunion he had so anxiously looked forward to.

Surprisingly, he turned and looked at her. Radical blinked expectantly.

"You're still with me, too. Right, Radical?" he asked quietly.

She smiled. "Always," she responded simply.

…

Please Review


	11. To Be Reborn

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Eleven: To Be Reborn

There was no doubt that she was still with him. Her attendance at Leonardo's side had never faltered before and it would not begin to do so when he needed her so much. Yet Radical could not be happy with the situation.

She could never be happy with standing by the side of her Love when he was not completely there himself.

Being "with" Leonardo and his brothers deteriorated quickly into being their eyes and ears, patrolling the skies while promising to not make contact with Kame – if she could ever find him – and keeping in the loop with the Justice Force and the police. This translated into maintaining the already stressed partnership with Nobody who, as both an ex-cop and a de facto member of the JF, had more than enough connections.

That day Nobody had told Radical that she was not in the right mind, seeing how she was deeply committed to the turtles, to work with him. If he was going to be involved with Kame any further it would be for himself.

It was information Radical was sure Leonardo could not be very happy with when she told him.

"If I tell him," Radical sighed as she opened the cabinet door and looked in. She was strangely barren in the kitchen and a simple snack was hard to come by. In her mind she blamed Michelangelo who had made it known to the other visiting brothers that if they wanted a good meal in the midst of researching they should stop by her kitchen.

Then she blamed Leonardo who, no doubt, had slipped into her home enough times that the sealed windows and doors were no longer even a small issue to the trained ninja.

Finding the last bag of a box of popcorn, she decided that a good snack and some mind numbing cable television would be the perfect combination before heading to bed. It had been such a long time since she went to bed early, too.

Relaxation could not have been more welcome that night. She put the bag in the microwave and headed to the couch.

Quietly, she laid out on the bed and made herself perfectly still. Closing her eyes she thought to herself, why not sleep here? Forget bed. Forget t.v. Just close your eyes and stay asleep, forgetting everything that stresses you.

Indeed, it would be nice. She could not even think of the last time she had dreams. She supposed it was yet another sign of the stress taking over. She worried way too much, much more than she ever should have allowed herself.

The call of the microwave screeched in the air and Radical groaned inwardly, shifting her weight to roll off the couch when her body all but paused.

The screech had stopped and the sound of the door to the microwave being opened echoed in her ears. Radical felt herself tighten up and she slowly moved to her hands and knees on the couch. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind.

Who was there? How were they there? Why?

While she had come home with the hopes of erasing all memories of the murders and Kame for the night, Radical found herself with nothing else on her mind. She felt in her gut that it was Kame and that she had somehow made herself the new target.

Narrowing her eyes, Radical shook her head. She knew that he was never going to get close to her. Kame had made a mistake because Dr Raven Shadowheart was no ordinary woman nor would she ever become one of his helpless victims.

Lit up with rage and feeling the power of the earth surging through her, Radical flung herself through the air full force into the kitchen area only to stop immediately, shocked to see that it was none other than Leonardo pouring the popcorn into a bowl.

"Leo!" she spat, more furious and relieved than she had ever been.

He shook his head and frowned. "You didn't call," Leo responded quietly before neatly folding the empty bag and depositing it in her trash can. "I decided to come over and check on you. I'm glad you're not trying to patrol by yourself."

"Dammit!" she grunted before rubbing her face. She was so confused and so angry at him. "Can't you knock? Leo, there's a serial killer after my people and you just sneak into the house like it's some sort of game!"

"You've never minded before," he shot back before offering her the bowl. "And a ninja never knocks."

"This is a different situation situation, Leo, so I'm sorry if I offend your traditions but I can't believe you don't understand why I'm upset," Radical countered before taking the bowl. "How long were you here?"

"Since you decided to change," Leo stated. "I was about to head back for the Lair but I thought you went to sleep and forgot the popcorn."

"Without talking to me?" she asked before grabbing a handful of the treat and taking a bite. "And don't think for a minute that I can't see through your lying. You came here with a purpose, you always do. What was it? Why did you almost back out of doing it?"

He remained quiet for a moment before lowering his head. "I need to talk to you. Like I used to. I wanted to try to hold in what I'm thinking, like I used to when my brothers and I were still together, but I couldn't. I realized that I used to have Master Splinter to talk to, he was the only one I trusted enough to show my emotions and concerns. But he's not here now. He's gone. I thought I'd have to hold them in but I realize now that I have you. I trust you more than anyone."

Radical smiled softly. "And I am here."

There was a few moments in which he looked to her face, studying it as if looking for a more incisive reason to believe her words before he shook his head and moved on. "I know, I just don't know how to apologize enough for getting you in this situation," he said. "You were so excited about being part of the Justice Force and now this monster, because of some delusional fantasy telling him to become more like _me,_ is ruining it for you."

She scowled at him, resisting the urge to simply smack him for his less than helpful attitude. Leonardo made his way to her room and looked through the dresser drawer where he kept his spare herbs and tea bags. He needed relief.

"You have no reason to apologize to me, Leonardo," Radical corrected him as she followed the moping turtle into the room. "If anything I should apologize to you for not coming to you when you were being too stubborn to talk outright with me."

He gave her a small look and snorted at the sentiment before pulling out his bag of tea. It was a strong herbal remedy, one that he usually took when he planned on staying the night.

"I was not being stubborn, and I _am_ sorry," he responded. "Even if you think I shouldn't be, I am."

"Then you are not hearing me," Radical retorted before grabbing the bag from his grasps and putting it down on the counter of the dresser. Their eyes met and both narrowed in a stand off. It was a draw between their clashing wills and yet they did not back down.

At last, she softened her gaze and gently cupped her hands around her love's chin and smiled gently. "Leonardo, you are not responsible for this man any more than I or anyone else in this world is. You, perhaps even more so than those women, are a victim. You are being chosen and victimized just as my people are. You cannot blame yourself. I won't let you."

"How can I not feel responsible when a serial killer has molded his monstrous identity around me?" he demanded. "How can I not be worried that, because of me, my city, my friends, my brothers, my _girlfriend_ are in danger?"

"Because you are not a monster," Radical responded flatly, tilting her head gently as he reached up and took hold of her wrists. "The monster is not within you, it is within the heart of this man. This terrible, terrible man, Leonardo. Why do you trouble yourself with someone who cannot see through to your soul?"

He smiled softly. "How is it that even when you say the simplest things, I feel like I can take it to heart when I look into your eyes?" he asked as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

Radical was surprised by the feel of her lover's lips. It had felt like so long since the last time they had kissed, they had so freely interacted. One thing she had learned about Leonardo was how tight he always was. His muscles were consistently tensed up and poised, his fingers moved with an uncertain rapidness, and his eyes shifted in studious bursts across the landscape. His lips, though, had never been tight.

Every kiss was like a first time, a surprise. Even when he was the one kissing her, Radical felt how soft and affectionate they were. They matched the gentle brown iris of his eyes. She always thought that they were not tense because he never thought he had to prepare them.

He reached around her back and she folded into his arms, closing her eyes as he maneuvered his arms around her back with quickly moving, feverish fingers. So quick and tense. But she still loved their kiss the most, though she generously accepted what happened next.

* * *

Snarling inwardly, he looked through the binoculars'' lenses. They moved together, joined like two paired sparrow which once gracefully flew solo only to flutter together in a heated mass, spiraling to the ground and becoming a plume of downy feathers and hormones.

"That-that _bitch,"_ he hissed between his teeth as he watched feverishly. "How could she? How could she?"

He thought of confronting his lover. He thought of going straight up to her, castrating that _impostor_ that was with her, and demanding to know how she could dare to cheat on him! He was her true love! He loved her!

She was supposed to love him.

"No," he said lowly as he snuck off, snarling at the horrid sight before him. "No, no. I won't go up to her now. She can have her fun. She still loves me but I'll be _damned_ if she looks him in the eyes like that again!"

He threw down the binoculars and growled. "She can only look at _me_ that way!"

* * *

Don sighed, leaning back into his chair and wishing it would just swallow him up. He was so tired of reading into the psyche of a serial killer. It was not part of his forte and it was most certainly not a safe zone for any intellect to be in.

These men were smart and dangerous. They were criminals and yet they seemed _above_ the regular criminal and, in a sense, they were.

Still, they were even more than that. Rather than resort to the falsehood of petty crime or the dullness of the 'normal' man's reality, psychopaths, serial killers, and sociopaths were unique breeds. They prided themselves on being above the law abiding citizen and regular criminals alike.

They thought of themselves of gods and usually killed, murdered, and took advantage of others in the way they perceived a god had the right to. They accepted risks and somehow managed to put them to their own advantages. It worked because some were never caught.

He did not want this for the man who called himself Kame. Don wanted him to go down but he knew that the only way that would be possible would be if he was killed by someone on a level higher than him.

They would have to do it.

"Are you still up?" Mike asked as he entered the living room. "If you're waiting up on Leo he sent Raph a text. He's not coming home until morning. I guess he's patrolling or checking on Radical. Y'know how he is."

"I wish I could say that was true," Don laughed slightly. "Sadly, I must admit that you probably have a better grasp on who Leo is _now._ Better than any of us, that's for sure. He's acting like a leader now but it's almost like it was back when we all first went to the surface together. It's like it's new for him."

"Seems fine to me," Mike shrugged.

"It would," Don rolled his eyes before staring at the papers laid out before him. "I don't know how to really get inside this guy's head, Mike. It's… getting harder and harder to say the least. He doesn't follow any psychological profiles I can copy on a novice level."

"Dude, why do you _want_ in there?" Mike asked as he grew a sour expression and crossed his arms. "You have to kinda remember, Don… He's kinda, I dunno, a _murderer._ It's not exactly something we can relate to."

The brainy brother scowled and looked to Mike. "Can't we?"

"Foot doesn't count," Mike shrugged. "Not like _we're_ directly involved with the majority of casualties anyway. I have chucks and you have a big stick—"

"Bo staff."

"There's the Donny I know!" the playful turtle grinned before sitting beside him. "Don't worry about this guy, Don. Either we're going to stop him, the Justice Force is going to stop him – which would give me the right to make a friggin' AWESOME script for a new comic – or the police is going to stop him. This trail's way too hot. Not going cold, take my word for it."

"Yeah, but once he's caught, then what? You think he'll go quietly? It's not exactly in the profile," Don pointed out before shaking his head. "Not to mention he has somehow maintained explicit information about us, about Leo in particular. He could ruin the quiet existence we all have and maybe even the relationship Leo and Radical worked so hard at."

Michelangelo tilted his head to the side and looked at his brother. "You're saying even if he tried to go in quietly… we would have to kill him. We don't have a choice."

"I don't know," Don sighed. "Maybe. That aside, though, I still feel like we're missing something. There has to be some reason besides us, some sort of trigger, which is causing him to think of us as gods. I'm afraid until we know what that is we won't know how this goes down."

…

Please Review


	12. Desperate Measures

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy **  
Chapter Twelve: Desperate Measures

She had to only take three steps into the building to know that things had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She felt the chill in every bone and could only seethe in the pain that the world around her had terribly caved in.

Radical was not in her element. In fact, she was rather dazed as she approached the museum.

After one wonderful night with Leonardo, bathing in each other's attention and embrace, she had returned to this? It was not right. It was not fair! How could they do this to her? Rip away the only solitude she had felt in all of these long weeks of searching for Kame?

Quicker and quicker, her pace picked up and she found herself racing past questioning police and security guards, tearing past dismantled exhibits, and ignoring the ominous stares she was receiving from onlookers and mannequins alike.

Among such onlookers was the curator, in his usual brown suit with his thin framed glasses resting upon the end of his nose like some ill tempered librarian. He took off after her with his thin, bony finger wiggling in the air as a warning.

"Dr Shadowheart! Dr Shadowheart! Do not go a step further!" he called after her, though he was no match for her superhuman abilities. Instead he called after her. "Dr Shadowheart! This is a crime scene! You won't like what you'll see in any case so just come back!"

She ignored him, of course.

Like she had done almost every day for nearly three months, Raven spun around on her heels and looked to the long hall that was to be dedicated to the archeological and anthropological studies of her people.

Every day for nearly three months she had supervised this division. She hand picked every display, moderated every decision, got down on her knees and perfected every arrangement. In all of her joking, in all of her effort, she had never been more proud of something she had done for her people.

In a way, Radical felt that by highlighting the importance of the Native American culture she was somehow returning the gifts her ancestors had given to her when they invested all the powers and strengths of the Wakinyan, Thunderbird.

It was her crowning achievement.

Stripped apart and sprawled across the environment like confetti, teepees and hundred-year-old blankets, sashes, and clothes now disastrously covered the floors. Over yellow crime scene tape she could see where the copper toned mannequins were ripped apart and painted in blood red, their eyes marked out and humanity taken.

For the first time in a long time, Radical could feel tears form upon her cheeks. It was alien to her, she had not cried since her rebirth as the sassy super heroine. She had always been so strong that she did not have to cry over the little things.

But this was no little thing. These were her people that had been defaced. It was her life's work, the thing she had fought for years to achieve, which was lying before her in ruin.

All that remained in tact was a single tapestry of a woven turtle which once hung over the display case of a classic bonfire scene. It was moved, though. Instead it was draped across the exhibit sign hanging in the center of the hall.

It was his calling card. Kame. He had struck at her people for the last time!

By the time the police and others had caught up to her, Radical was gone. She took off toward the back entrance she had used so many times before to sneak out. It was her escape route and as soon as she was through the doors and onto the ladder she whipped out her phone.

It rang for a moment or two, long enough for her to fly from the second floor's fire escape to the alley floor. Then a yawn answered followed by a groggy, "Hello?"

"Leonardo, we are getting Kame and we're getting him now," Radical spat furiously. "I'm heading toward the park, tell your brothers and then meet us all there. We'll make a trap. A plan. We'll get the bastard!"

"What's gotten into you?" Leo questioned, his serious, leader tone returning. "D-did you leave? Have you already been to work? What time is it—Dammit. Radical, I told you to wake me up! My brothers—"

"Leo!" Radical snapped as she paused her stride. "Kame attacked the exhibit at the museum."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, I'll be sure to ask in the middle of kicking his ass," Radical hissed. She was fuming, she could actually feel the air around her getting hotter in response to her trembling voice. "I might even let you and the others get in a few hits."

"No, we're not doing anything," Leo corrected her. "You need to calm down. We'll get together and talk but we're not doing anything irrational. We'll set him off. Did you hear me, Radical? Don't do anything, just stay where you are!"

Furious, she hung up the phone and glared down the small device. "You're wrong, Leo," she said coldly. "This is personal now. I'm not waiting around for something else to happen and it scar my people even farther."

* * *

One snap and the flashlight was on. It was all it took.

With such a simple maneuver, though, one had to be prepared for side effects. For one, the flashlight, while powerful, only emitted a small range of light. It was more like a beam than a beacon and for that very reason it could cause someone to be at a disadvantage.

If they did not know what they were looking for.

A sign of a great detective is his ability to make something out of almost nothing. A trait in a flashlight that could be a fault by many people's standards can then be used as a fantastic tool for someone willing to bend the rules.

Any great detective could do it and Nobody was no exception.

He moved through the secure room like it was lit up for him on display. It helped that he was so familiar with the room already, though, it had little to do with his skill at that particular moment.

At last he was able to shine his light upon the real target, the filing cabinet, and make his way to its many drawers. He narrowed his shielded eyes and looked down the row of blank, locked drawers before he deduced which one it had to be.

Sentry, after all, was a tall man and never one for bowing to anyone, especially a simple filing cabinet. He was also in favor of the number three. The third drawer from the top also appeared to be the most used considering the tarnishing of the handle.

Quietly, Nobody lifted a lock pick from his belt and inserted the device to the lock. A few simple turns and he had already opened the drawer. He scowled inwardly, knowing it was too simple, that anyone could get his or her hands on it.

Lifting up the flashlight in one hand, Nobody peered into the cabinet and looked at each and every personnel file within its vaults.

Suddenly, the lights were on and Nobody could only grunt as he lowered his head expectantly. He should have expected this to happen, it always did.

"Well, I figured it was you," Sentry's proud voice lofty said. "You're the only man who can manage to not be picked up by our security system and gives me the strange feeling that a _rat_ has made its way into the building."

"That's an interesting choice of words," Nobody noted before turning slightly. He was just around enough to glare his white, soulless eyes at his friend, enough to let the Silver Sentry know he meant business.

"Nobody, you're an honorary member of the Justice Force," Sentry reminded him as he folded his arms across his chest. "You're also one of my most trusted friends. If you wanted a file you could have asked me to and I would have never asked a question. If you break in and try to take them, though, well, that brings up the concern for a lot of questions."

The black clad hero waved his hand to the opened drawer so Sentry could see which one it was. "I have these files already. They're _my _files, remember?"

Confused, Silver screwed his face tightly and shrugged. "Then why try to break in here and go through all the trouble?"

"Because it proved to me that _you _didn't have them, Solomon." Nobody responded with a near snarl in his voice. "Or did you think I didn't understand what would happen when I did as you asked and profiled everyone who is or has been a member of the Justice Force?"

"You're a profiler, Nobody, and the closest thing we have to an outside observer," Sentry retaliated. "You did the right thing."

"I bet you think _you _did the right thing, too, huh?" Nobody growled. "Giving the police the ability to profile any of the super powered heroes of the city. Letting them catalogue the ways to beat them to give them the false idea of _security. _All so the Force would be legitimate?"

"I did not give them the secret identities of everyone, Nobody," Sentry argued. "And yes. They needed them so that they would feel safe in trusting the Justice Force and our allies. As much as you are for the legitimacy of other organizations, you should probably be all for this."

Nobody growled. "I'm not. You've made public documents out of the profiles of our friends, Sentry. No matter how good your intentions are, anyone with a government pass could get a hold of those files which, knowing you have been available for months and that's deadly."

"Deadly?"

"You know someone's profile, Sentry, and you have their lives in your hands," Nobody clarified. "You have the way they think, they live, they breathe and you can catch them and crush them more effectively than any army or warhead. It changes everything."

Almost as quickly as he entered the room, Nobody made his way out, barely brushing past Silver Sentry on his way, ignoring his friend's attempts at eye contact.

"You now, at times you're wrong," Sentry sighed.

Nobody paused and shook his head. "Yeah, so are you."

* * *

By eight o'clock the neighborhood was locked up so tight that it would have been hard for the local mice to weasel their ways in. Old ladies which lived by themselves closed the shutters and sat by their dusty chairs with only a candle on. All hoped that their attempts would ward off the coming of the killer Kame.

The news repeated each of his offenses to the hollow structure of law and the families crowded around, staring at the screen in awe. It was as if they were all a part of the crime dramas that they watched each night.

He did not care for the notoriety though he did not fear it enough to run. He figured that once he was transformed he would disappear from the public eye just as his _brothers_ always had, too.

Thinking on the situation as he walked through his familiar though strangely quiet street, Kame realized that he had never even watched an entire news cast. He never really needed to before; they never said anything he did not already know.

Smiling, he thought back to the very street he was on, his eyes scanning the area as he hid his mutilated hands beneath the overcoat on his arms.

This was close to where his first had been. He did not know her name or really how she differed from the others except her eyes. From a distance they were the most longing, beautiful black eyes. They were like his mother's.

When that girl had looked to a man who left her on the stoop of her apartment they lit up like a fire was burning behind them and he looked into her eyes so lovingly because they told him everything he needed to know about himself.

It was just like his mother. When her whore gal pals were around or when a customer had decided to pay an extra twenty for the "tea leaf special" she suddenly lit up from the inside and became more than just the fortune teller. She gave in to what the world wanted of her and could tell anyone what they needed to hear.

Everyone except him. She couldn't even remember his name half the time.

"You're slow as a turtle," she'd snap. It was the very thing she said to him the day he finally snapped. It was the day she died.

He went up to the first girl while she was still alone, on that stoop, and smiled at her the same way the man before had. She gave him a queer look and those fiery eyes suddenly hardened into dark coals. His mother's had done that all the time, a quiet way of telling him he was annoying her, bothering her, _killing _her.

Kame tried to be nice. He really had. He took her by the hand and attempted to romance her but she threatened him and asked him if he was stupid or something. No, not stupid. _Slow._

Well, he was not slow and he was not stupid and he felt like he was just going to have to teach her who was boss. Just like he had his mother.

A solid punch across her cheeks, crushing her nose, knocked her back off the stoop and she fell over the edge. She let out a moan that was like what his mother had when she broke through the glass table she had laid her tarot cards across.

He dragged her into the alley just as he had pulled his mother by the ankles across the dining room and he showed her he knew exactly what he was doing.

On both accounts he called the police and was registered as the first to find the body of the deceased. He explained how horrified he was, the attempts he made to save them, and how he cradled their bodies in agony over seeing their deaths.

His mother was reported as a suicide after a bad hallucinogenic trip.

The girl was reported as an unsolved homicide. Not much publication, it was not even considered a part of his 'serial killings.' He went to the funeral, though. Met the guy. He was her fiance. Kame gave his condolences.

He went back to that stoop a lot. It was a pleasant memory. He considered them _all_ pleasant memories. They were the stepping stones to his metamorphosis and he appreciated them ever so much.

That day he was not going back to that stoop, though. It was just a marker on the way to a much larger milestone.

Crossing the road and ignoring the police tape which was weather beaten and disheveled, Kame grinned upon the site of the explosion where he had brushed with his reptilian counterparts. He was glad they made it out all okay. Well, _mostly _ glad, but the imposter was still attempting to take his place.

He watched him with his true love. Kame taught the whore a lesson, though. Of that he was sure.

At least, he was until he looked to the wires of the gate blocking the public from the site and saw an envelope hanging loosely by a piece of tape. It was a most unusual sight and Kame had to look around to see if anyone was there to claim it.

No, it was his. He was sure and he was curious.

Taking the letter, he opened it and looked at the sweet handwriting of a female. It was in ink and it was spontaneous in its sharp bursts of penmanship. He narrowed his eyes. This was an angry letter.

_I know what you did to the museum. You bastard. Turn yourself in before I get a hold of you or you will seriously regret the day we crossed paths. Turtles and incarceration will be the least of my concerns if you continue to condemn my people for your troubled past._

_The Wakinyan, Radical._

He stared at it, brushing his thumb over her name and suddenly he felt it. It was something he had not felt in a long time. It was the thirst for blood and while two of his murders had consisted of such lustful rage, all the others were composed of simple necessity in order to transform himself.

No, now he had to kill something at that instance no matter who, what, when, where, or why. Unfortunately for the man in the hard hat who approached him, he was not like Kame's mother or first real kill: he was not the cause of the blood thirst.

But he would do.

Kame turned on his heels, dropping his coat.

"Sir, you can't stand around here, it's a crime scene," the man explained before looking to Kame's hands and seeing the three pronged appendages. His jawline quivered and he looked back at Kame's soulless eyes. "Jesus Christ!"

"You'll be needing him," Kame growled before lunging forward, leaving only the echoes of the man's screams for the locked up, shuttering neighborhood.

…

A/N: In case I don't upload again this week, Happy Halloween.


	13. Watching Train Wrecks

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Thirteen: Watching Train Wrecks

The scene was played out like something from a television script. Normal pedestrians were arm in arm with reporters, cameramen struggled for a front seat glance at the marked off area, and photographer's bulbs flashed as their bodies pressed against the thinning yellow tape.

Police officers waved their arms and emphatically, bidding the people to look away and not desecrate the scene of the murder any further. Crime scene investigators struggled to examine the body quickly so they could bag it and ship it off, preventing its pulpy remains from being photographed further.

Others struggled to tell the difference between what had been evidence from the explosion and what could be the missing piece they needed in the current crime. There were so many questions being thrown around it was hard for even a silent observer to think straight.

The four looked down from the rooftop sourly, unsure if they sympathized with the panicked public or not. It almost seemed that the mutated turtles were less animalistic in that moment than the people were.

"There she is," Leonardo finally spoke up as he turned his head toward his left shoulder just as Radical gently landed on the corner of the building.

The rest followed suit and they greeted their friend solemnly with the quiet nods and stale greetings. How were they supposed to feel? Kame had struck again and, to be honest, it seemed that their meetings lately had only consisted of this sort of happening.

Radical, however, seemed worse off than any of them and it surprised Leonardo more than anything to see that certain amount of signature cockiness away from her brow. She was not even in uniform but rather still in the pressed clothes she had for work. This woman did not look much like the voluptuous Radical at _all._

"Are you sick?" Leo asked with his eye ridges furrowed. He did not give any further change in his composure, however, he was in his zone. He could not afford to let it up even if the situation involved her.

"Yeah, you don't look good at all," Mike added with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you wearing make-up?" Raph asked somewhat more forward than his brothers.

"No, I was in a hurry," she admitted before rubbing her face. "And I'm fine, just a little stressed. This was Kame. I'd smell him on this as strongly as I can feel the winds. I just have to be able to convince others – "

"You'd be more convincing in your leotard," Michelangelo pointed out with a finger waving at her current outfit. "I'd say the police would be a little open with you, too, considering the Justice Force and all that."

"I'm not 'officially' on the case so I don't think that'd work," Radical responded. "Consider this to be undercover work."

Folding his arms Don released a sigh and looked to their super powered friend. "I don't mean to sound doubtful, Radical, but are you sure you're not just upset about earlier today? This isn't really part of Kame's signature. It's more of a rage-crime from what we could see."

"It was also a dude," Mike pointed out.

"Yes," Don continued with an eye on his brother for the interruption, "if it _was_ Kame then something must have been triggered within him to cause this."

"There was something, I'll explain later," Radical responded as she levitated from the roof, avoiding Leonardo's eyes. "Look for him in the crowds. He returns to old crime scenes and something tells me he's here right now."

"What do you mean by that?" Leo asked only for Radical to fly off without further discussion. He narrowed his eyes and could feel a tiny pang in his chest as if it was something he shared with her. She was nervous, guilted by something.

She eventually reemerged from an alley, unseen by those on the ground, and made her way into the crowd where she merged with its mass and became a single black blot against the multicolored surface of the public.

"We're heading to the alleys on all corners of the crowd," Leo explained to the others. "I'll take the farthest side. Keep an eye out for Kame."

"How are we supposed to know what he looks like now?" Raph asked. "We didn't get a real good look at him last time and I betcha he's smart enough to alter his appearance. Plus everyone in this neighborhood looks shady."

Turning to his brothers, Leo frowned. "Kame thinks he's one of us so look for someone dressed like a mutant with something to hide."

"Trench coat and fedora?" Michelangelo questioned.

"Exactly," the Leader stated somberly before pointing to the four corners around the crime scene. It would be easy enough to situate themselves, he just hoped that they would come out ahead unlike last time.

They divided the area up amongst themselves and hid within the shadows they could manage to find. It was going to be a long night and the air told them something that the crowd below could not feel huddled together.

There was something very evil around them and they could not help but wonder when it would decide to show itself.

* * *

Moving through the crowds made Radical continuously shoot down the idea of simply blowing everyone else over with a good gust of wind. She restrained her instincts, though, and eventually worked her way to a police captain just as he began to walk away from a few cameras, ignoring the pleads from the microphone toting reporters for 'one last word.'

Kame had made the city a madhouse and Radical could not help but feel somewhat responsible.

She could not bring herself to look in the way of the black body bag which indecently attempted to cover the corpse of the man who should not have died. It literally pained her chest to even think of him, seeing what that monster had done to him because of her and her hotheaded stubbornness. Why did she send that letter? Why?

Pressing her feelings as far down within herself as she could, Radical made it to the captain and tapped his shoulder.

"Get back, ma'am, you're almost intruding on a crime scene," he growled as he gave her an irritated look. "We're working as fast as we can."

"Sir, I have to tell you something!" she said immediately, her arms crossing as her mind reminded her _You're not special right now, Rad, you're just a civilian. _

"We have this crime scene under control. Be careful, go home, and look to the news, we will be giving them continuous coverage of this random homicide," he stated flatly as though he had just read it off of a cue card. It only managed to infuriate her further.

Why could no one else see what this murder really was? That this man was not the first victim of a murderer but another casualty of a true killer?

"No, sir, this is not a random homicide, at least not the way you're thinking of," Radical said as she stood behind the tape, watching scathingly as he crossed under it. "This is another murder by Kame! This was his old crime scene and this guy was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Good day, ma'am," he responded before leaving her behind, rather happy to be away from her.

She snarled, unable to believe that this officer would not even give her the time of day! And why would he? She was some nut on the side of the street. There was no reason for him to believe her.

"Having trouble, Kid?"

Turning on her heels, Radical brought herself face to face with a strong chined man with his brow hidden behind a mass of ungroomed black hair. His eyes peered forward through the darkness, though, like the blank whites of a mask. For a moment Radical could have sworn he _was _wearing one. Even in a jacket with torn sleeves and some dirtied jeans he could not hide who he was, though. There was no doubt that the unshaven man was the ex-cop who donned the Ebony Cowl.

"Nobody," Radical said with a small whisper as she turned more directly to him. "I thought that I sensed someone here. I'm glad it's you and not our Silver Senturian or the others. They would have a bloody fit if they saw me here."

"You say that as though I'm happy about it, _Raven,"_ he responded almost snidely as he tilted back his head and peered down his nose. She flinched at the use of her real name, it made her feel so strangely. "I warned you about getting too closely involved with this one."

She looked over her shoulder as if attempting to see what evidence remained about her terrible mistake. Then, looking back, she shook her head. "I can't play word games right now, Nobody," she said lowly. "I'm sure that this has something to do with Kame but I can't get the NYPD to listen to me."

"And why would they?" he asked lowly.

"Because it's the truth and you know it, Nobody," she responded snappishly. "Something has set him off and caused him to lash out. He's returning to the crime scenes. There's so much—who else could it be but him? No one dares to go around these places at night."

"You mean except you and a few green skinned ninja," Nobody retorted. "Tell me, Raven, would this trigger have anything to do with you?" He narrowed his eyes and looked back down to her. "Don't think I'm turning a blind eye to this situation."

The corners of her mouth dropping, Radical sighed and nodded. "I know you better than that, Nobody. Just because you're the profiler doesn't mean that others can't know about people, too. All I'm asking you is to help a victim not die in vain."

He was quiet for a moment, his scowl hardening. After a moment, Nobody nodded for her to continue.

"Just tell the police, I know you still have some connections in there," Radical went on. "Just get them to look into that angle. Please just make sure they don't lose this trail while it's still warm!"

For a moment Nobody simply stood there and studied her, testing her almost it seemed. Radical bit her lip, wondering if he was going to go through with it. Then, slowly, he turned about and left, heading toward the sergeant and captain.

* * *

Raph turned his head and looked over the crowd toward Donatello. His brother had bravely moved in closer to the panicked public for a closer examination. Leonardo was so sure that Kame was there, they could not take a chance of letting him get by them again.

But why had he become their responsibility in the first place? Raph had to keep reminding himself that this was a sort of "fan obsession" over them, that Kame was somehow in his twisted mind attempting to please the four of them. It was too surreal for him, though. He kept losing track of that as they waited there, endangering their lives in more ways than one.

He looked over the setting again, closing his sights on the general public when he saw Don's waving in the corner of his eyes. Turning his head that way, he could see Mike and Leo move in closer but he Raph did not see the reason.

"Where are ya, you bastard?" he asked lowly before his sights settled on a figure to the back left of the raging, boisterous crowd.

He first noticed the bulky man that was directly facing incognito Radical. The guy looked familiar but, then again, for all Raph knew it was some dude from the museum or Rad's neighborhood. It was not much cause for alarm.

Due east of them, however, was a gray toned trench coat, hands stuck in pockets, old fedora seemingly fresh from a garbage can. He stood there, staring at Radical and this other man with a strange fascination.

Around the singular gray figure, however, was utter chaos. No one looked twice at him. No one except for Raph and his brothers and it was them who noticed that beneath the coat were two bare feet: black and purple skin enveloped around four blackened toes.

It was Kame.

Kame continued to watch Radical and the other man until they walked away from each other. It was then that the murderer glanced toward the shadows where Donatello had came forward. He knew they were there.

Without any warning, Kame took off down the road, rushing past all the gathering crowds. He was around the corner and Raph found himself following as fast as he could, sticking to the shadows just enough to avoid bystanders' eyes.

He sensed his brothers followed suit and they were after the murderer again.

Raphael could not shake a strange feeling, however. It seemed to tell him that they were going to be over the heads.

…

Please Review


	14. Brother Dearest

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Fourteen: Brother Dearest

The unspoken plan was that she would get the police to realize that it was Kame who had murdered the innocent construction worker and then meet back up with the turtles. She knew that it was what they expected her to do and, likewise, she expected them to be there to back her up once she was done.

In the midst of the crowd she waited, blending in with the people while Nobody did the talking for her. He was better at that sort of thing anyway. She was never a very diplomatic person, it was one of the many problems the Justice Force found in her performance as a member and super heroine.

What she lacked in that department, however, she made up for with her friends in high places. She could rely on them to help her out just as she was relying on Nobody; just as she was relying on Leonardo and his brothers.

Looking around the crowded street, her eyes particularly concentrated on the rooftops and alley corners, Radical found herself in a strange position. She could not see the turtles.

She supposed for a moment that she really was not supposed to see them so much as they were supposed to be hidden and ninja-like. The thought did not last long, though, because she knew Leonardo much better than that and while he was the most serious about retaining to the shadows, he would not let Radical feel alone.

When she looked for him in the darkest hours of the night he was always there. It was just Leonardo's style and it was something she had always found very comforting.

If he did not do that now when she was relying on him she knew that it was because he was not there. How could anything keep Leonardo from being with her now when she truly needed his backup? She could not think of anything.

"The sergeant listened to me after a few convincing statements," Nobody's low voice suddenly spoke up from the edge of the crowd.

She turned and looked at him only to find he was facing the opposite direction. He was doing his best to appear not to be with her and Radical was not sure if she should have been offended or if it was a sign of something much more serious.

"They're working twice as hard to get any DNA or fingerprints that Kame might have left behind," he continued, allowing himself to turn his head just enough to give him a vacant stare from one of his eyes. "He was sloppier this time. They'll probably get a name from it if he's already in the system."

"Think he will be?" Rad asked as she tilted her head, keeping herself from looking around for the turtles yet again. _Why weren't they there?_ "In the system?"

"I don't see how he couldn't be," Nobody responded before looking off. "But I think he's here. Don't stare at me directly. I have a feeling we were watched. I didn't tell you earlier because I know how you overreact-"

"You thought he was here!" she demanded before levitating, her hands curled into fists. People gasped and turned around to look at her. "You didn't tell me?" she demanded as the people glanced around to each other, wondering who she could be talking to.

Growling, Radical looked around and realized just why the turtles were not there any longer. Kame had been there and they were after him. She took off through the air, hoping the senses the winds were giving her were directing her toward the turtles and the murderer.

* * *

They were so fast! He just could not believe how far ahead of him they were, but it only excited him more. He ducked within an alley and, just as he had practiced so many times before, took off up the fire escape.

On the roof his bare feet, numbed from the pain and neglect from his transformation, felt every vibration as they came in behind him. He was running with the full knowledge that he would be caught. He was excited that they were so happy to have him as part of the group already.

But he was not ready. Not yet. He was so close, almost ready to become one of them. He just had one step left and once he crossed the threshold he would be one of the brothers, just as he had always meant to be. Just the way destiny had chose for him to be.

"Kame! Stop where you are!"

The future turtle snarled. He knew that voice and the more he heard it the more certain he was that he despised, _hated, _its owner. That imposter. That fool! He was only temporarily in his spot until Kame was ready to retain his role.

"You're not getting away this time!" he yelled, only closer this time.

They were all closer. He could feel them closer around him. They were closing in, trying to make him surrender. He looked as the roofs began to collide, he leaped over the wall to the next roof. The others were quicker.

"Why are you doing this? What do you have to prove?" he continued.

Kame looked around and found that the imposter and the brooding brother, Raphael, had cut him off from ahead. They were so much faster than him. He backed away only to see that Michelangelo and Donatello was behind him.

Looking to Michelangelo, Kame smirked and tilted his head to the side, a smirk curling on his face. Mike would understand. He liked stories, after all. "Tell the imposter that I won't respond to him, Michelangelo," he said, sending a wave of shock through the directed turtle. "Tell him that I will be done soon enough and that I'll take my spot back from him so he shouldn't get comfortable."

"W-what did you just call me?" Mike asked, backing up some on his own, his nunchucks lowering in confusion. "How do you know my name?"

"Don't back up, Mikey!" the imposter ordered but it was too late, Kame had already seen his opening and took off to take advantage of it.

Running forward full force, Kame charged into Michelangelo, hoping to rock him back off his feet in his moment of let down and surprise. Much to Kame's chagrin, however, the younger brother was not quite as unprepared as he had thought.

Kame should have known better, his brothers had been trained all their lives in order to fight. Mike held his ground and soon Donatello was by his side. They both were greater at combat than Kame had ever expected and flung him back across the roof, causing him to crash into the floor.

"I've trained so hard, though," he growled at himself as he laid there on the rooftop, his fingers reaching within his coat as he laid on the ground. He closed his eyes. No. This was not how he wanted this to go down. He had a plan, a strategy. This was not part of his training. "But you're all so much better than me. So much."

"Did you really expect to get some sort of gratification from killing all those innocent people?" that slimy imposter snarled at him. "Did you really expect that you would somehow become better than them because you took their lives? Some how became better than us? It doesn't work that way and you're going to pay for the rest of your life, no matter how short that may be, for what you've done."

"Shut up, you imposter!" Kame snarled. "You're not the real Leonardo!"

"I _am_ the real Leonardo. You're the imposter. Wake up: no matter what you do you'll never be anyone but yourself."

"No, I'm changing," Kame roared before looking up, his fingers slipping over the cold metal before finding their marks. He glared at the turtle before him. "Tell him. Tell him, Raphael. It's me. I'm Leonardo. He's the imposter. Not me."

"You are no brother of mine, ya nut-case," Raph growled. "My brother's standing right next ta me."

"No!" Kame screamed before pulling out the cold steel weapon. "I am not the imposter! We're going to my Lair, by the docks. I'm going to be reformed! I'm going to become one of you and you all will listen to me because I'll be the leader!"

"Put that gun down!" the imposter cried out.

"RAPH!" the others called.

Raphael stared coldly at Kame. He shook his head and reached for his belt, a wrong move. It left Kame with no choice but to pull the trigger.

They screamed.

* * *

The moment was something nightmares were made out of and Leonardo took what felt like an eternity to rationalize what happened. It was almost too much time and he could only step forward as a splash of red hit his face. He watched in horror as he reached forward for his falling brother only for Raphael to be out of his grasp.

Raph fell back off the roof and it was then that the ringing of the gun finally left Leonardo's ears. "NO!" he screamed as Michelangelo and Donatello rushed forward in a terrified unison of screams for their fallen brother's name.

Without any further hesitation, Leonardo leaped forward and doze after his brother's plummeting body. He stretched forward with all of his might, trying to get to Raph when he realized he was falling alongside Raph off the six story building.

It did not matter, though. He tucked his arms against his sides and increased the speed of his fall, catching up with his unconscious brother right before there was a hitch, stopping his and his brother's falls.

Shocked, Leonardo shook his head before looking up to see it was none other than Radical who had grabbed him and Raph by the rims of their shells. She looked furious, her face was an angry visage cast in stone as she quickly flung them through the air, getting them to the roof.

"Radical, thank God!" Don cried out as the heroine set Leo on his feet.

Leonardo could not listen, though, all of his attention was divided into worry for Raphael and the utterly consuming rage he suddenly felt for the man who had dared to bring injury to his family. Leo drew his swords and looked around as Radical gently lowered Raphael on the roof, laying him out as Don checked his brother's blood splattered chest.

Staring forward, Leo narrowed his eyes, only seeing a stunned Michelangelo standing in his peripheral vision. "Kame. Where is he?"

"I don't know, Leo, he took off, I don't know how. I swear! Don and I weren't paying attention!" Mike uttered in quick, breathless sentences. "He was there one second and we ran to the edge for Raph. But you had dove. And Radical was there. And I turned around. He was gone. I don't know how he got past us."

"The bullet's still lodged in his plastron," Don announced suddenly. "I can get it out but he's still bleeding bad. We have to get him home now."

Looking back, Leonardo stared at his brother and was shaking with anxiety, anger, grief. He could not believe what had just happened. He could not believe that he led his brothers to this danger, that he so grievously underestimated Kame.

"I can fly him there fast and stop the bleeding while you all are getting there," Radical responded before lowering herself, scooping up Raphael carefully. She looked to the others. "I might have to break the door down, though."

"Do whatever you have to, Rad," Mike said.

She gave Leo a small look, expecting him to respond to her. He could not, though. He stared at her blankly, shocked. He still had not wiped his brother's blood from his forehead. He could not believe what had just happened.

"I'll be waiting," she said before taking off with Raphael, carrying him as if he was nothing.

The three stood like waiting ducks, no one even sure if they had entered a Twilight Zone or not. Leo shook his head. "He's going to be alright. He has to be alright. Kame couldn't have—have—"

"The bullet didn't enter too far, we've had worse," Don responded before rushing to the nearest fire escape, catalyzing a reaction in which Mike and Leo sped after him, finally bringing themselves back into step. "He'll be fine, sore but alive. We just have to get there quick and take care of everything while it's still looking good, though."

Growling, Leo followed his brothers down the escape. "It's looking good for everyone but Kame. If it wasn't personal before, it is _now."_

…

A/N: Please Review


	15. Devolution

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, Radical, and the Justice Force © Viacom  
Kame, story © Turtlefreak121

**Lycanthropy**  
Chapter Fifteen: Devolution

There had been many times they had been shot at, stabbed, and all around gored nearly to death but that initial fear one receives in the moments that he or his loved ones are totally and utterly doomed never stales.

No matter how many times he had written scenes from that very perspective, Michelangelo had found that no narrative could ever truly describe what he felt in those moments as he watched his brother be shot and sent tumbling to what could have very well been his death. No words he could find described that loss and helplessness which overtakes the body and utterly destroys one from the inside out.

And yet he was _alive._

What was it that Raphael liked to call it? Turtle luck? That was a good way to describe it. Perhaps it was even the _only_ way one could describe what they had. That dangling just toes and fingers lengths away from uncertain afterlives, relying solely on the longevity of their species to carry them through: yes, it was Turtle Luck.

He leaned back and looked at Raphael, tucked away and drugged up beyond belief in his bed. Mike had to laugh at the fact that the mattress was in so little use that it still did not curve around his brother's figure even despite the massive weight of the turtle and his protective shell.

"Guess it's harder to get rid of us than Kame expected," Mike jested as he looked at Raph's form. It was a useless joke, though, and even he knew that. Kame was not trying to kill them at all. This was an unplanned part of Kame's 'great change.'

Question was: how would Kame react knowing now that the turtles, as miraculous and inspirational as they might have been to him, were still mortal mutants with the same vulnerability to fatality?

Sighing, Michelangelo situated himself in his seat more and tossed his head to one side of his shoulder. "You know, Raph, I don't think this Kame's like a turtle at all, even if he thinks he is or wants to be," Mike spoke up. He waited a moment, as if to give his unconscious brother ample time to respond. Then he continued. "He kinda reminds more of a wolf. I know you're thinking it's because 'Oh, that's just Mikey and he's watched _An American Werewolf in London_ too many times,' but it's not that either."

He frowned and laid his head back. "Wolves are supposed to be like pack animals, a predatory gang. I had to read up on them when I wrote this comic script called Lycan, but that's another story. A healthy wolf is in a group and is really kinda social – as social as man eating carnivores can get, but I digress. I guess what I'm saying is that Kame reminds me of the _lone wolves_ I read about.

"Lone wolves don't belong to a pack, though, sometimes they try to. I guess they're lonely on their own and it's just harder to get by in the wilderness when no one's got your back. But sometimes a wolf's alone too long. They want to be in a pack but it'll never work. They're kinda in doggy limbo. They're too aggressive for normal life and have to dominate whoever's in their so-called pack."

The writer took a moment to reflect on the information he had given his brother and then grew a sort of wicked smile before shaking his head. "I know, you're wondering _'what kinda shit has he been writing?'_ Well, for your information—"

"Hey, Mikey," Don's voice suddenly interrupted from the hall.

Surprised to have his moment with Raphael cut short, Mike spun around in his chair to face the door. He grimaced when he discovered that he did not even have the pleasure of looking at Don as he so rudely interrupted his monologue.

"What, Bro?" Mike questioned with a yawn. "Raph's doing fine if that's what you want."

"No, I know he is," the other was quick to respond. "I'm not worried about that, Mike, I just want you out here pronto. Leo's calling a three person meeting around and, well, considering Raph's incapacitated we can only assume you're the third."

Having his curiosity piqued almost immediately, Mike got to his feet. He turned and gave a small look to his brother before sighing. "Rest easy, Raph. I know you're not really in the mood for listening at the moment, but maybe you'll sleep better knowing we're gonna nail this sonovabitch for you. Turtle Scout's honor."

He wasted little more time in leaving the room and heading to the living room where the others waited.

* * *

For just a moment he was alone and in that moment he could release just the tip of the frustrations which had built themselves around him, seemingly smothering him. He could insecurely wring his hands and ask himself _is this the way it's supposed to be?_

It was a question that, in truth, he could not answer completely. He did not have enough time on his own to sink deeper into the matter either.

In truth, the only relief Leonardo could seek was in the careful rubbing of his temples, closing his eyes and focusing on a time when simple meditation was enough to make his world and his troubles seem so very small and conquerable. He missed those times more than anything else.

Looking up, he watched as Don and Mike at last came to the living room and a bit of a sinking feeling lowered itself into his stomach. He still felt like they should wait until there was all four of them present. The team was not complete with even a single brother missing.

Forcing himself to sit upright, Leonardo sucked in some air and looked to them. "I know we decided this before, but we need to go over it again," he explained as they found spots to sit and began to look at him. "Kame has to be stopped and starting tonight we're going to make _sure_ that he is. We know what he's capable of now so we're not going to underestimate him and get caught off guard."

The others nodded somberly and Leonardo felt his jaw clench at the thought of what had happened. He could not believe that Raphael had been shot. He should have been able to stop Kame…

"We were lucky," Leo continued lowly, lowering his head and glaring at his feet. "There's no reason to expect that we will get that lucky again."

"Especially with the way that he seems to be devolving," Donatello spoke up. Leo turned his eyes toward his brother and nodded for him to continue. Swallowing, Don waved his hands to the files laying across the coffee table. "This entire time he's been, in his mind, obsessing and training in order to become more like us. In this goal of emulating our style and skills he knows that ninja find firearms dishonorable and uncontrollable."

"Seriously," Mike interrupted with a scowl on his face, no doubt at the disgust of what guns had done to their brother.

"For him to have used one, to use one on one of _us_ no less, Kame has started to break down the fragile mask he's made of himself," Don continued. "Shooting Raph was bad, he knows it, and it's going to send him tailspinning into madness."

"More mad than he already is?" Leo asked with his teeth grinding. He had not felt hate this strongly for an individual in a long time and it was causing his nerves to flare.

"Let's just say that he's going through a digression of character," Don continued. "I think we've mislabeled him as a serial killer all along. He's simply lycanthropic in his aspirations to find resolution in the animal kingdom but he only followed a pattern after making a few murders then he tore that plan up. All he had left was _metamorphosis_ and I'm afraid with what he did to Raph he might think he's failed in that area, too."

Scratching his head, Mike raised an eye ridge to this analysis. "So what does that mean exactly, Donny? He's crazy, sure, and dangerous, we know, but if he thinks he's failed being a serial killer and failed being a turtle, what will he do?"

Frowning, Don shook his head. "He'll do… something unpredictable, Mikey. That's about all we can know."

They stared at one another, accepting the news quietly and with much frustration when Leonardo tensed. It was almost as if he felt the door opening before it ever happened. He grabbed the hilt of his sword over his shoulder and whirled around just as his brothers stood up only to find it was their dark skinned friend coming in clad in her white spandex uniform.

He released his hold on his sword and straightened up. A part of him was happy to see her and another part was mad as Hell.

Behind Leo, Mike and Don were utterly silent, looking to their brother curiously as if waiting for an implosion to take place. Leo was happy to know that they would find no such reaction. He was much more confused than he was angry at least.

Looking to all of their faces with a bit of a smug perplexion of her own, Radical closed the door behind her and tilted her head to the side. "I came by to check on Raph. I've been patrolling all night and didn't see any of you so I thought I'd stop by, see how things were."

"You've been out all night?" Leonardo repeated as if trying to understand what was going on. "Rad, I told you that you should stay home. I bet you went to work, too. Kame attacks us just last night and—"

Radical turned her face toward Mike and Don then back to Leonardo when they did not seem to get the hint. Leo understood her perfectly and glanced over his shoulder to his brothers who loosened up some as they caught on.

"Raph's fine, Rad," he said a little quieter. Leo then turned completely to his brothers and sighed. "Look, guys, can you see if there's anything to eat? We've not ate in hours and it's catching up with me."

"You could just say you want some alone time," Mike responded with a shrug as he turned with Don to obediently head into the kitchen. "We're not fifteen, it's not like we'll eavesdrop to make jokes about your lovey-doviness later."

"I'm sure," Leo responded shortly before rubbing his face.

He began to recall when he and his brothers were younger and they were together almost all of the time. He remembered how he would remain as stressed as he was at that moment. It caused him to question what sanity he had for wanting to regain such a position.

"I can take care of myself, Leo," Radical suddenly spoke up with a cross of her arms.

Looking at her, Leo felt his gaze harden and he shook his head at her. He was angry but even at that moment he could see that it was not at her. "I can't feel comfortable with you being out there by yourself, Radical. I just, I have to know that you're okay and I can't know that if you're flying around the city with no Justice Force to back you up and I'm here in the Lair—"

Slowly, Radical approached him and rested her finger on his lips, silencing him. Radical looked into his eyes and for a moment he felt like he was meditating, that the world was so small in her eyes and that all that mattered was what was unseen between them at that moment.

"I will go home if it makes you feel better," she said gently before kissing his right cheek. "You worry too much as it is, Leonardo. You're starting to make me feel paranoid."

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed through his nose. She smelled so much like the earth or like the air at the farm when it was filled with sparing blooms. It was so comforting just like her promise was.

Leo began to make his way toward the door. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Radical laughed and got between him and the door, raising her brows at the very notion of it. She gave him a gentle smile and shook her head. "No, Leonardo. If you can't let me do anything else alone at least give me this. I'll be on my guard, I promise. I can handle a walk home."

For a moment he glared at her, as if to argue her point but he finally softened and nodded. He did owe her at least that. "Sure thing. Just go straight home."

She nodded and turned for the door.

"Wait," he spoke up again before walking toward her. "Was there something you were trying to tell me when you came here? I know you, Rad, you wouldn't stop by just for the sake of saying hello. You had a reason and I get the feeling that it wasn't just Raph." He watched her reaction. Radical stiffened and she seemed to be immersed in thoughts. "Was it about last night?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," she said before looking over her shoulder. "I'm going home. I love you, Leonardo."

He stared at her and crossed his arms. "I love you, too, Radical."

* * *

Murder had not been part of the original plan but now he could see how beneficial it was to his rebirth.

Once he had foolishly thought that his connection to his 'true' self was the aspirations he held with the four brothers, _his_ four brothers. He thought that to become Kame he would have to follow the set path and emulate them.

It was unfortunate that he had to kill Raphael in order to discover that it was not that way at all. No, he had to dominate them. He was the leader, after all. It was his duty to remind them just where they all belonged as his underlings.

Raphael would have never submitted. For years Kame had watched them, tracked them. He had seen how Raphael reacted to being suppressed and, in truth, it was foolish for Kame or for his replacement Leonardo to think they could lead him.

In the end, though, it was Kame who came on top.

He should have thanked the brothers that night for giving him the sign, though. Kame now knew it was time to seize his new form, complete his transformation into the creature inside of him. They had pointed the way to him for all of these years.

They even pointed him to _her._ The keeper of his soul, the revealer of his true form.

Yes, it was time.

Confidence radiated through his body as he smiled and placed the bag into the microwave. It was just like old times, just the way it had always been. That night was so different, so special, though. He was sure that she would notice.

He pressed the button without a moment to spare and backed into the shadows, disappearing from the untrained eye. Oh, how glorious this would be!

Quietly, he waited as the doorknob turned and the door creaked open, revealing the gypsy woman who looked just as though she came out of his dreams. He felt so giddy he could have leaped up but did not, of course.

It would ruin the surprise.

Horror was written all over the beautiful lady's face as she stopped, lowering her bag to the ground. Slowly, after the initial fear passed, she narrowed her eyes and looked to the kitchenette where the popcorn shook the little microwave to and fro.

She seemed off balance compared to usual, as though she had been hit by something and Kame knew he could take credit for it. How was one supposed to feel when they discovered their home had been invaded?

"Leonardo, if you followed me home I swear I'll never forgive you," she scolded the air before shutting the door around her. She slowly began to walk with more confidence in her stride. She acted as though she had solved some sort of mystery. "I know it's you."

He watched her delicate curves as they approached the shadows. He wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted in his life.

And he had her.

Before she could think twice, Kame fastened his forearm over her neck from behind and buried his nose – _beak _– into her hair. Oh, how good it smelled. She let out a roar but not before Kame fastened the point of the syringe into her neck and shot the vile fluids into her veins.

"Get off me you son of a bitch!" she shrieked before grabbing his arms and quite easily throwing him across her body and into the fridge.

He felt the hit and came tumbling to the ground like a bag of bricks, curling up in the pain of it but smiling none the less at her as she grabbed the needle sticking out of her neck and jerked it out. It was enough to have already caused the super powered woman to sway from side to side.

Pulling himself up, Kame made his way toward her. She was attempting to balance herself by bending her knees enough to be almost squatting rather than standing and yet she still managed to look so good.

Gently, he reached forward and stroked her hair with his three fingered hand.

"No… touching … me!" she snarled before the water in the sink smacked him in the face, her last resort before she fell to her knees in front of him.

It was not much but it was enough to anger him and Kame was about to make sure that Radical would never attempt to make him angry again.

…

A/N: Please Review


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